































* AT 



» 'AW A / +FW'- 

P, , » 5 M O ? A f>- * 9 1 ' 

^ \' X * ' * ^ 


. %• / /A 

* <k? <:' * 


Ao° '**/*, h.’\\V 
*-, v ■ ^ *, % v ^ 

<> A * * <!, 


O 


& 


y </> 


r ^ ° 





* <c * v < V^ 4 ' A '"o. *<,mV o* 

f o^ c-.,^ * * / x * ' * , % o°‘ .* 

0 * -sAAx ' A V A * frtfs/Zz. * . < 

y' ; - «o o’* • * 





: a ** :<gi 

> A % <A 

J/ ^' "C ‘ A C » y ''\J S - ^ 0 l C^. /- c % fV 

o ,£► ^ A 

o <^> ’ 

Z 

° aV A>. ° 

> \ o 

A vl8 "/■ '0. ** A 0 K , ,<V' *' A tf .V 1 *, ^ 

A ^"* ( o. ,-0 v fi 0 * ^ 

i v n ^ , i ' 


■ A A>. o 
\ V ^ 


2 




•<> ■•?>, ^ 






'<■). ■' ') s 0 \\ 

^C‘ V * 

f r> .p 

*. VA :« % * v 



g C* ✓ 

,» A 0 ^ A ^ 0 M 0 

r * * > *2* N 

4 fy s s 7 fy CA 

o 


A. 


* 'V' v 


a A 



: <S> yA 

t/> 


v 5 ^ 

A ^ ^ V 

ry if ^ ^ ^ ^ V 

A , , B ^ y c « X <0 
A ^ ^ ^ * -* 7 o_ C P ' * c ^ 

A ^ 














♦ 


/ 


50 Cent 

Xo veil's II liter national Series 


. 


A Double Knot 


BY 

GEORGE MANVILLE FENN 

Author ok “Eli’s Children,” “A Mint of Money,” Etc., Etc. 


A ufboriqed Edition 


NEW YORK 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

150 Worth Street, corner Mission Place 

Every work in this series is published by arrangement with the author. 


Issued Weekly. Annual Subscription, $15.00. December 15, 1890. 
Entered at New York Post Office as second-class matter. 


THE CELEBRATED 



The SOHMER PIANOS 
are used in the fol- 
lowing Institutions: 
Convent of the Sacred 
Heart, 

Manliattanville, N. Y. 
N. Y. College of Music. 
Vogt’s Conservatory of 
Music. 

Arnold’s Conservatory 
of Music, Brooklyn. 
Philadelphia Conserv- 
atory of Music. 
Villa de Sales Convent, 
Long Island. 

N. Y. Normal Conserv- 
atory of Music. 
Villa Maria Convent, 
Montreal. 
Vassal- College, 

Poughkeepsie 
And most all the lead- 
ing first-class theatres 
in New York ll’klyn. 



l'he Wonderful Bijou 
GramHlately patented, 
by SOHMER & CO., the 
Smallest Grand ever 
manufactured, length 
only 5 feet 6 in., has 
created a sensation 
among musicians and 
artists. The music lov- 
ing public will find itin 
their interest to call at 
the warerooms of 
SOHMER & CO. and 
examine the various 
Styles of Grands, 
Uprights and Square 
Pianos. The original 
and beautiful designs 
and improvements in 
Grands and Uprights 
Pianos deserves special 
attention. 


Are at present the Most Popular and Preferred by tlie beading Artists 


Nos. 149 to 155 East 14th St., New York. 


BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE AUTHORS. 

LOVELL’S SERIES 

OF 

Foreign Literature. 


EDITED BY 


EDMUND GOSSE. 

THE CHOICEST WORKS OF FOREIGN LITERATURE ABLY 
TRANSLATED AND WELL BOUND. 

1. Joshua. By Georg Ebers, ..... 

2. Prose Dramas. Vol. I. Henrik Ibsen, 

3. In God’s Way. By Bjornstjerne Bjornson, 

4. The Two Brothers. By Guy de Maupassant, 

5. The Chief Justice. By Karl Emil Franzos, 

6. Prose Dramas. Vol. II. By Henrik Ibsen, . 

7. The Ace of Clubs. By Prince Lubomirski, 

8. FANTASY. By Matilde Serao. Translated by Henry Harland, 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

150 WORTH ST., COR. MISSION PLACE 


5 ° 

50 

50 

50 

SO 

5 ° 

5 ° 

5 ° 



A DOUBLE KNOT 


i 






V 







XovelPs ITnternatfonal Scries, 1 Wo. 141. 


A DOUBLE KNOT 


A NOVEL 


BY 

GEORGE MANVILLE FENN 

i« 

AUTHOR OF 

“eli’s childrn,” “the master of the ceremonies,’ etc., etc 




'Authorised Edition 


FEP 16 I 

V '/ 1 

sh i 

NEW YORK 


UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOYELL COMPANY 


142 to 150 worth street 



\ 

( 


m 


Copyright, 1891, 

BY 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY, 


A DOUBLE KNOT 


PROLOGUE.— THE GERM. 


CHAPTER I. 

A DAUGHTER OF EVE. 


“ Mother ! ” 

There was no reply, and once again rose from the bed 
in the prettily-furnished room the same word — ‘'Mother ! ” 
The wild, appealing, anguished cry of offspring to parent, 
seeming to ask for help — protection — forgiveness — the 
tenderness of the mother-heart to its young, and still there 
was no answer. 

The speaker struggled up so that she rested on her 
elbow, the heavy dark nut-brown hair fell in long clusters 
on her soft white neck and bosom ; her large hazel eyes 
looked wild and dilated ; and her fair young face deathly 
pale, as, with quivering white lips, she cried once more : 

‘‘ Mother ! Speak to me or I shall die.” 

“ It would be better so,” was the cold hard reply, and a 
lady who had been gazing from the window turned slowly 
round to gaze full at the first speaker, her handsome 
Spanish type of countenance looking malignant as her dark 
eyes flashed, where she stood biting her full sensuous 
nether lip, and glaring at the occupant of the bed. 

a Mother ! ” was the anguished cry once more, as the 
girl sank back upon her pillow. 


4 


PROLOGUE . 


“ Yes,” was the bitter reply. “ You are a mother. God 
be thanked that your father, who idolized his child, was 
not spared to see this day.” 

“ Oh, mother, mother, have some pity — have some mercy 
upon me. Where am I to seek it, if not from you ? ” 

“ From Heaven : for the world will show you none. 
Why should I ? Shame upon you that you should bring 
this curse upon my widowed life. The coward ! — the viV 
lain ! Was not our simple quiet home, far away from the 
busy world, to be held sacred, that he must seek us out 
and cast such a blight upon it ! ” 

“ Oh, hush, mother ! ” wailed the girl. “ I love him — I 
love him.” 

“ Love him ! Idiot ! Baby ! To be led away by the 
smooth words of the first soft-spoken villain you meet.” 

“You shall not call him villain, mamma,” cried the girl 
passionately. “ He loves me, and I am to be his wife.” 

The girl flashed up for a moment with anger, but only 
to lie back the next instant faint and with half-closed eyes. 

“ His wife ! Are you such a fool that you believe this ? ” 
cried the elder woman bitterly. “ His wife ! There, cast 
aside that shadow at once, for it is a delusion.” 

“ No, no, mother, dear mother, he has promised me that 
I shall be his wife, and I believe him.” 

“ Yes,” said the mother, “ as thousands of daughters of 
Eve have believed before. There, cast away that thought, 
poor fool, and think now of hiding your sin from the world 
which will shun you as if you had the plague.” 

“ Mother ! ” cried the girl piteously. 

“ Don’t talk to me !” cried the woman fiercely, and she 
began to pace the room ; tall, swarthy, and handsome for 
her years, her mobile countenance betraying the workings 
of the passionate spirit within her. “ Mother ! Would I 
had never been one ! My life has been a curse to me.” 

“ No, no ; don’t say that, dear.” 

“ It has, I tell you. There’s something wrong in our 
blood, I suppose. Look at your brother.” 

“ Poor Julian ! ” sighed the girl. 

“Poor Julian!” cried the woman scornfully. “Of 
course he is poor, and he deserves it. He must have 
been mad,” 

“ But he loved her, mamma, so dearly.” 

“ Loved ! ” cried the woman with a wild intensity of 
rage in her deep rich voice and gesture, as she spat on the 


PROLOGUE. 


5 

floor. “ Curse love ! Curse it ! What has it done for 
me ? A few sickly embraces — a few years of what the 
world calls happiness — and then a widowhood of poverty 
and misery.” 

“ Mamma, you will kill me if you talk like that.” 

“ Then I will talk like that, and save myself from temp- 
tation more than I can bear,” cried the woman fiercely. 
“ What has love done for the son of whom I was so 
proud — my gallant-looking, handsome boy ? Why, with 
his bold, noble, Spanish face and dark eyes, he might have 
wed some heiress, married whom he liked — and what does 
he do? turns himself into a galley slave.” 

“ Mamma, what are you saying ? ” cried the girl faintly. 

“ The truth. What has he done ? Married a woman 
without a soil, and had to accept that post at the mines. 
Isn’t that being a galley slave ? ” 

“ But he loved Delia, mamma.” 

“ Loved her ! Curse love ! I tell you. The ass ! The 
idiot, to be led away by that sickly, washed-out creature — 
the Honorable Delia Dymcox,” she continued, with an in- 
tensity of scorn in her tones. 

“ But she is a lady, mamma.” 

“Lady? The family are paupers, and, forsooth, they 
must look down on him — on us because we have no blood. 
Well, she is justly punished, and he too. I hope they like 
Auvergne.” 

“ Oh, mother,” sighed the girl weakly, “ you are very 
cruel.” 

“Cruel? I wish I had been cruel enough to have 
strangled you both at birth. I wish our family were at an 
end — that it would die out as Julian’s brats waste away 
there in that hot, dry, sun-cursed region.” 

“You do not mean it, dear?” 

u I do, Mary ; I swear I do. Oh that I could have been 
so weak as to marry as I did — to be cursed with two such 
children ! ” 

“ You talk so, dear, because you are angry with me,” 
sighed the girl. “ I know you loved poor papa dearly.” 

“ Pish ! You are like him.” 

“ Yes, mamma, and poor Julian has always been so like 
you.” 

There was silence then in the half shadowed room, while 
the mother sat sternly gazing out at the stream that rippled 


6 


PROLOGUE . 


by the cottage, dancing in the sun-light and bathing the 
roots of the willows that kissed its dimpling, silvery surface. 
The verdant meadows stretched far away rich in the lush 
grass and many flowers that dotted them with touches of 
light. All without looked bright and joyous, as a lark 
high poised poured forth his lay, which seemed to vibrate 
in the blue arch of heaven, and then fall in silvery frag- 
ments slowly down to earth. 

The girl lay crying silently, the tears moistening her 
soft white pillow, as she gazed piteously from time to time 
at her mother’s averted face, half hidden from her by the 
white curtain she held aside to gaze from the window. 

“ Can you — can you see him coming, mamma ? ” faltered 
the girl at last. 

“ Whom ? •The doctor ? ” was the cold response, as the 
curtain was allowed to fall back in its place. “No, I 
have not sent for one. Why should we publish our 
shame ? ” 

“ Our shame, mamma ? ” 

“Yes, our shame. Is it not as bitter for me? Live or 
die, I shall send for no doctor here.” Again there was 
silence, and the elder woman slowly paced the room, till 
passing near the bed, a soft white arm stole forth, and 
caught her hand. 

“ You are very cruel to me, mother. Oh, do look ; 
look again. See if he is coming.” 

“ If he is coming ! ” cried the elder. “ Are you mad as 
well as weak ? You will never see him more. Poor fool 1 
I believe even his name is only assumed.” 

“ I shall,” cried the girl with energy, “ and he will come. 
He loves me too dearly to forsake me now. He is a gentle- 
man and the soul of honor. 

Her face lit up, and the joyous look of love shone in her 
eyes as she gazed defiantly at her mother, who looked back 
at her, half pitying, half mocking her faith. Then, in spite 
of herself, she started, for steps were heard on the path 
beneath, and as the girl struggled up once more to her 
elbow, and craned fyer neck towards the window, voices 
were heard speakjng at 31 little distance. 

“ There, there ? ,? pried the girl, with a sob of joy, as she 
sank back laughing hysterically. “ What did I say ? He 
loves me — he Ipyes me, and he has come.” 

Mrs. Riversley ran to the window, and drew aside the 
curtain furtively as a couple of young men, gentlemen 


PROLOGUE . 


7 


evidently, and one carrying a trout rod, walked slowly by, 
following the winding path that led round by the great 
gravel pit in the wood that bordered the stream, and soon 
after they disappeared amidst the trees. 

“ That was his step,” cried the girl at last. “ Who was 
with him, mamma? ” 

“ Captain Millet.” 

“ Poor Mr. Millet ! ” said the girl softly ; and then with 
the anxious troubled look fading from her countenance to 
give place to one of quiet content as a smile played round 
her lips, she lay very still, with half-closed eyes, listening 
for the returning steps. 

Twice she started up to listen, but only to sink back 
again, very calm and patient, her full faitl^hat 'the man 
she loved would return beaming from every feature of her 
handsome young face. 

■ l Mother,” she said at last softly ; and Mrs. Riversley 
turned towards her. 

“ What do you want ? ” 

“ Is it not time you brought it back to me, mother — that 
you laid it by my side ? ” 

There was no reply, and the girl looked up pleadingly. 

“ I should like him to see it when he comes,” she said 
softly, and a wondrous look of love dawned in her pale 
face, causing a strange pang in her mother’s breast as she 
stood watching her and evidently trying to nerve herself 
for the disclosure she was about to make, one which in her 
anger she had thought easy, but which now became ter- 
ribly difficult. 

“ If you cannot forgive me, mother dear,” gaid the girl 
pleadingly, “ let me have my babe : for I love it, I love 
it,” she whispered to herself, and the soft dawn of a young 
mother’s yearning for her offspring grew warmer in her 
face. 

“ You will never see it more,” exclaimed the woman at 
last, in a hard harsh voice, though she trembled and shrank 
from her daughter’s eyes as she spoke. “ It will never lie 
by your side for him to gaze upon your shame and his : the 
child is dead.” 

A piteous cry broke from the young mother’s breast, and 
in her bitter grief she lay sobbing violently, till nature in- 
terposed, and, exhausted, weak and helpless, she sank into 
a heavy sleep with the tears still wet upon her face. 


8 


PROLOGUE. 


“ It is better so — it is better so,” muttered Mrs. Rivers- 
ley, as she stood gazing down at her child. “It will nearly 
kill her, but, God forgive me, it must be done.” 

She stood watching in the shaded room till a slight noise 
below made her start, and hastily glancing at her daughter 
to see that she slept, she stole on tiptoe from the bedside, 
and crept downstairs to where a sharp angular-looking 
woman of four or five and twenty was standing in the little 
drawing-room with her shawl over one arm, and her bonnet 
swinging from the strings. 

She looked flushed with exercise, and her hair about her 
temples was wet with perspiration while her boots were 
covered with dust. 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Well,” said the woman, with a rude, impatient gesture. 
“ You must give me a glass of wine. I’m dead beat. It’s 
quite four miles there, and as hot as hot.” 

“ How dare you speak to me in that insolent way, Jane ! ” 
said Mrs. Riversley angrily. 

“Oh,” said the woman sharply, “this is no time for 
ma’aming and bowing and scraping ; servants and missuses 
is all human beings together when they’re in trouble, and 
folks don’t make no difference between them.” 

“ But you might speak in a more respectful way, Jane,” 
said Mrs. Riversley, biting her lips, and looking pale. 

“ Dessay I might,” said the woman ; “ but this ain’t the 
time. Well, you want to know about the ” 

“ Hush ! for heaven’s sake, hush,” exclaimed Mrs. 
Riversley, glancing round. 

“ Oh, there’s no one near us,” said the woman with a 
mocking laugh ; “ not even the police, so you needn’t be 
afraid. It ain’t murder.” 

“ Did you find her ? ” said Mrs. Riversley. “ Pray tell 
me, Jane. I spoke rather harshly just now, but I could 
not help it, I was so troubled and upset.” 

“ Dessay you were : dessay everybody else is,” said the 
woman roughly. “ How’s Miss Mary ? ” 

“ Better, Jane ; but you must never see her again. She 
must never know.” 

“ Did you tell her it was dead ? ” said the woman sharply. 

“ Yes, yes, and so it must be to her. But tell me,” 
continued Mrs. Riversley eagerly, “ did you make the 
arrangement ? ” 


PROLOGUE . 


9 


“ Yes, and I had to give her every penny of the money 
you started me with.” 

“ And she does not know anything ? ” 

“ No,” said the woman, “ and never will if you behave to 
me proper.” 

“ Yes, yes, Jane, I will ; anything I can do, but you 
must go from here — at once.” 

“ And how are you going to manage ? ” 

“ As I can,” said Mrs. Riversley sternly. “ This secret 
must be kept.” 

“And what are you going to give me to keep it? ” said 
the woman sharply. 

“ I am not rich, Jane — far from it,” began Mrs. Rivers- 
ley. 

“You’re rich enough to pay me twenty pounds a year 
always,” said the woman, with a keen greedy look in her 
unpleasant face. 

“Yes, yes, Jane, I will,” said Mrs. Riversley eagerly, 
“on condition that you keep it secret, and never come 
near us more.” 

“ Then I want that gray silk dress of Miss Mary’s,” said 
the woman, with the avaricious look growing in her face. 
“She won’t want to wear it now.” 

“ You shall have it, Jane.” 

“ And there’s that velvet jacket I should like.” 

“You shall have that too, Jane.” 

“ I ain’t got a watch and chain,” said the woman, “ you 
may as well give me yourn.” 

Without a word Mrs. Riversley unhooked the little gold 
watch from her side, drew the chain from her neck, and 
threw it over that of her servant, whose closely set eyes 
twinkled with delight. 

“ You must pay me the money in advance every year,” 
said the woman now sharply. “ I’m not going without the 
first year.” 

Without replying Mrs. Riversley walked to a side table, 
unlocked a desk, and from the drawer took out four crisp 
new bank-notes. 

Jane Glyne, maid-of-all-work at the Dingle, a place two 
miles from everywhere, as she said, and at which she was 
sure no decent servant would stop, held out her crooked 
fingers for the money, but Mrs. Riversley placed the hand 
containing the notes behind her. 


IO 


PROLOGUE. 


“ One word first,” she said firmly. il I have agreed in 
every respect to the hard terms you have made.” 

“ Well, if you call them hard terms v began the 

woman in an insolent tone. 

“ Silence ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Riversley, “ and listen to 
me.” 

She spoke in a low deep voice, full of emotion, and the 
low-bred woman quailed before her as she went on. 

“ I say I have come to your terms that you have imposed 
upon me.” 

“ I never imposed upon you,” began Jane. 

“ Silence, woman ! ” cried Mrs. Riversley, stamping her 
foot imperiously. “ I have agreed to all you wished, but 
I must have my conditions too. You have that unfortunate 
babe.” 

“ Your grandson,” said the woman in a low voice, but 
Mrs. Riversley did not heed her. 

“ Bring it up as you will, or trust it to whom you will, 
but from this hour it must be dead to us. I will give you 
the money in my hand, and I will do more. This is June. 
From now every half year fifteen pounds shall be ready at 
an address in London that I will give you. To such a 
woman as you that should be a goodly sum, but my condi- 
tions are that within an hour you shall have made up a 
bundle of the best of your things, and left this place, never 
to return. If you ever molest us by letter or visit, the 
money will be stopped.” 

“And suppose I tell everybody about it?” said the 
woman insolently. 

“ It is no criminal proceeding that I am aware of,” said 
Mrs. Riversley coldly; “but you will not do that; you 
value the money too much. Do you agree to my terms ? ” 

“ But my box,” said the woman. “ I can’t carry away 
half my things.” 

“ Here is another five-pound note,” said Mrs. Riversley 
coldly; “five five-pound notes. I gave you ten pounds 
before, and you only gave that woman half.” 

“ How do you know? ” 

“ Because I know your grasping character,” said Mrs. 
Riversley firmly. “ Now — quick — do you decide ? Try to 
extort more, and finding what you are, I shall risk all dis- 
covery, and bear the shame sooner than be under your heel. 
Do you agree ? ” 


PROLOGUE. 


i 


“Yes,” said the woman surlily. 

“ Quick, then ; get your things and go. I will bring you 
the dress and jacket.” 

“ Ain’t I to say good-bye to Miss Mary ? ” 

“ No,” said Mrs. Riversley firmly. “ Now go.” 

The woman stood biting the side of one of her fingers 
for a few moments, and seemed to hesitate ; but the rustle 
of the new bank-notes as Mrs. Riversley laid them upon 
the table and placed a paper-weight upon them decided her, 
and in an incredibly short time she stood once more in the 
room, in her best clothes, and with a bulky bundle tied up 
in an old Paisley shawl. 

Five minutes later she had received the money without a 
word being spoken on either side, and was standing just out 
of sight of the cottage, by the stream, hugging the bundle to 
her with one hand, and gnawing at the side of her finger. 

“ What a fool I was ! ” she muttered viciously. “She’d 
have given double if I’d pressed her, and I’m put off now 
with a beggarly thirty pound a year. I’ve a good mind to 
go back.” 

She took a few steps in the direction of the cottage, but 
stopped with a grim chuckle. 

“ Thirty pound a year regular for doing nothing is better 
than ten pound and lots of work. Perhaps we should only 
quarrel, for she’s a hard one when she’s up. But I might 
have had more.” 

She stood thinking for a few moments. 

“ What shall I do ? ” she muttered. “ If I leave it with 
them they’ll kill it in a week, and then there’s an end of it, 
and I get my money for nothing. If I fetch it away I have 
to keep it. But it may be worth my while. Mrs. Riversley 
ain’t everybody, for there’s Miss Mary, and there’s him, 
and if he isn’t a swell, t’other one is, I’m sure. What’s 
that ? ” 

She started in affright, for just then a strange, hoarse 
shriek rang out of the wood to her left, and it sounded so 
wild and agonizing that she stood trembling and listening 
for awhile. 

“ It was like as if someone had jumped into one of the 
deep river holes or the big pit,” she muttered; “but I 
dursent go to see. It was very horrid.” 

Whatever the cry, it was not repeated, and the woman 
hurried on for about a mile, when, coming to a side lane, 


12 


PROLOGUE. 


she hesitated as to the course she should take, and ended 
by going straight on. 

At the end of a score of paces she stopped short, turned 
and hurried back to the side lane, down which she walked 
as fast as her bundle would let her. 

I don’t care, I will,” she muttered ; “ thirty pound a 
year will keep 11s both. I’ll fetch him away ; he may be 
worth his weight in gold.” 


CHAPTER II. 

MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND. 

They were about equal in height and build, and apparently 
within a year of the same age, the one dark, and 
wearing, what was unusual in those days, a short crisp 
beard and moustache ; the other fair and closely shaven as 
to lip and chin, but with a full brown whisker clothing his 
cheeks. 

The former was evidently terribly agitated, for his face 
worked and he was very pallid, while the latter looked 
t flushed and nervous, the hand that grasped his trout-rod 
twitching convulsively ; and he kept glancing at his com- 
panion as they strode along past the cottage. 

“ What I ask you is ” the darker of the two was 

saying. 

“ For heaven’s sake be silent till we get farther on, Rob, 
and I’ll tell you all you want to know.” 

There was silence for awhile, and the two young men 
walked rapidly on, turning through a woodland path, when 
the trees caught the rod of the one addressed as Rob, and 
he cast it impatiently aside, stopping short directly after 
in an opening where the path wound round the brink of a 
deep gravel-pit, the wayfarer being protected from a fall by 
a stout oaken railing. 

“ Now, sir,” exclaimed the first speaker excitedly ; “ no 
one can hear us.” 

“ No,” said the fair man in a nervous, hesitating way. 
“ Go on ; say what you have to say.” 

“ It is soon said, James Huish. I have been away with 
my regiment in Canada two years. Previous to that chance 


PROLOGUE. 


*3 


threw me into the company of a sweet, pure girl, little more 
than a child then. I used to come down here fishing.” 

“ You did ! ” exclaimed the other hoarsely. 

“ I did, and visited at that cottage time after time. Man, 
man, I tell you,” he continued, speaking rapidly in his 
excitement, “ the recollection of those days has been my 
solace in many a bitter winter’s night, and I have looked 
forward to my return as the great day of my existence.” 

“ Stop ! ” said the other nervously. “ Tell me this, 
Rob : did she — did she love you ? ” 

“ Love me ? ” exclaimed the other passionately : “ no. 
How could I expect it? She was a mere child, budding 
into maidenhood ; but her eyes brightened when I came, 
and she was my little companion here in the happy days 
that can never be recalled. James Huish, I love that 
girl with all my soul. My love has grown for her, and my 
first thought was to seek her on my return, and try to win 
her for my wife.” 

“It’s deuced unfortunate, Rob,” said the other in his 
nervous way. Then, with a kind of bravado, he continued 
half-laughingly : “ But then, you see, you have been away 
two years, and you have stopped away too long. It’s a 
pity, too, such friends as we were.” 

Ere he had finished speaking his companion had seized 
his arm as in a vice. 

“ Huish ! ” he cried hoarsely, “ if you speak to me in 
that tone of voice I will not answer for the consequences. 
I do not wish to be rash, or to condemn you unheard ; but 
this is of such vital import to me that, by God, if you speak 
of it in that flippant tone again, I shall forget that we are 
gentlemen, and, like some brute beast, I shall have you by 
the throat.” 

“ Loose my arm,” exclaimed the other, flushing more 
deeply ; “ you hurt me.” 

“You hurt me,” cried the other, trembling with passion, 
“ to the heart.” 

“ If I have wronged you,” exclaimed Huish, “ even if 
duelling is out of fashion, I can give you satisfaction.” 

“ Satisfaction ! ” cried the other bitterly. “ Look here, 
James Huish. You have been a man of fashion, while I 
have been a blunt soldier. If what I hear be true, would 
it be any satisfaction for me to shoot you through the head, 
and break that poor girl’s heart, for I could do it if I liked ; 


H 


PROLOGUE . 


and if I did not, would it be any satisfaction to let you 
make yourself a murderer ? ” 

Huish shuddered slightly, and the color paled in his 
cheeks. 

“ Now answer my question. I say, is this true? ” 

“ W.e are old friends,” retorted Huish, “ but you have 
no right to question me.” 

“ Right or no right, I will question you,” exclaimed the 
other passionately, “ and answer me you shall before you 
leave this spot.” 

Huish glanced uneasily to the right and left, and, seeing 
this, his companion laid his hand once more upon his 
arm. 

“No,” he exclaimed, “you do not go; and for your own 
sake, do not provoke me.” 

The speaker’s voice trembled with rage, which he seemed 
to be fighting hard to control, while Huish was by turns 
flushed with anger, and pale with something near akin to 
fear. 

“ I will not answer your questions,” he exclaimed desper- 
ately. 

“ You promised me you would, and you shall, James 
Huish. Look here, sir. A little over two years ago there 
was a servant at the cottage — a cold hard girl. I come 
back here, and I find this same girl now a woman. She 
recognized me when I met her yesterday, and, believing 
that I was going to the cottage, she stopped me, and by 
degrees told me such a tale as I would I had never lived 
to hear. I went away again yesterday half mad, hardly 
believing that it could be true. To-day I returned, and 
she pointed you out to me as the villain — as Mr. Ranby — 
a serpent crawling here to poison under an assumed 
name.” 

“ Go on.” said the other. “ You meant marriage of 
course.” 

“ I tell you, man, I never had a thought for that poor 
girl that was not pure and true. If I had spoken so soon, 
it might have checked an intercourse that was to me the 
happiest of my life. Now I come back and find that the 
peace of that little home is blasted — that the woman I have 
loved has been made the toy of your pleasure ; that you, 
whom I believed to be a gentleman, a man of honor, have 
proved to be the greatest of villains upon this earth.” 

“ Have a care what you say,” said Huish hotly. 


PROLOGUE . 


*5 


“ I will have a care,” cried the other. “ I will not con- 
demn you on the words of others ; I would not so condemn 
the man who was my closest friend. Speak, then; tell me, 
I say is this all true ? ” 

“You have no right to question me.” 

“ I say is this true, James Huish ? ” 

“ Look here. What is the use of making a fuss like this 
over a bit of an affair of gallantry.” 

“ What ! ” cried the other, grasping the arm of Huish 
once more tightly. “An affair of gallantry? Is it, then, 
an affair of gallantry to come upon a home like a blight — • 
to destroy — yes, blast the life of a pure, trusting, simple- 
hearted girl, who believes you to be the soul of honor? 
James Huish, I do not understand these terms ; but tell me 
this,” he continued in a voice that was terrible in its cold 
measured tones, “ is this true? ” 

“ Is what true ? ” said the other, with an attempt at 
bravado. 

“ You know what I mean — about Mary Riversley.” 

“ Well, there, yes, I suppose it is,” said Huish, with 
assumed indifference ; “ and now the murder’s out.” 

“ No,” exclaimed the other, with the rage he had been 
beating down struggling hard for the mastery ; “ not mur- 
der : it is worse. But look here, Huish. This girl is 
fatherless,” he continued in a voice quite unnaturally calm. 
“ I loved her very dearly, but, poor girl, her affection has 
gone to another. She cannot be my wife, but I can be her 
friend and I will. You will marry her at once.” 

“ Not likely,” was the^scornful reply, as Huish tried to 
shake his arm free. 

“I say, James Huish, you will marry this poor girl — no, 
this dear, sweet, injured lady — at once. The world would 
call her fallen ; I say she is a good, true woman, as pure 
as snow, and in the sight of God Almighty your own wife. 
But we have customs here in England that must be ob- 
served. I say again, you will marry Mary Riversley — at 
once ? ” 

“ I — will — not ! ” said Huish slowly and distinctly, the 
pain he suffered bringing a burning spot in each cheek, 
and his temper now mastering the dread he felt of his com- 
panion. 

“ I say again,” said the other, in the same strange unna- 
tural tone, “ you will marry Miss Riversley — at once.” 


i6 


PROLOGUE. 


“ And I say/’ cried Huish, now half mad with rage and 
pain, “ I will not. Marry her yourself/’ he said brutally, 
“if ” 

“ Damned traitor ! ” cried the other, choking the com- 
pletion of the sentence, as, active as a panther, he caught 
Huish by the throat. “ Dog ! coward ! scoundrel ! Down 
on your knees, and swear you will marry her, or I will not 
answer for your life ! ” 

Huish in his dread half wrenched himself free, and a 
wild, strange cry escaped his lips. Then, nerved by his 
position, he turned upon his assailant and a deadly struggle 
commenced. 

They were well matched, but the young officer, hardened 
by a rough life, was the more active, and as they swayed 
to and fro in a fierce embrace, he more than once seemed 
on the point of forcing his adversary to the ground ; but 
Huish putting forth his whole strength recovered himself, 
and the struggle was renewed with greater violence than 
before. 

It was an aimless encounter, such as would result from 
two men engaging when maddened with rage. Their 
cheeks were purple, their veins stood out in their temples, 
and their eyes flashed with .the excitement of the encounter. 
The danger they risked in their proximity to the deep pit 
was not heeded, and more than once, as they wrestled to 
and fro, they nearly touched the fence that ran along the 
brink ; but neither seemed to be aware of its existence, the 
short grass and heather by the side of the path was tram- 
pled, the bushes rustled and the twigs were broken as the 
antagonists in turn seemed to gain the mastery, and then 
for a few moments they paused, each gripping the other 
tightly, and gazing angrily in one another’s eyes. 

There was the low sobbing pant of laboring breath, the 
heaving of strong men’s breasts, and then without a word 
being spoken the struggle recommenced. 

It soon became evident that Huish was trying all he 
could to throw his adversary, the idea uppermost being 
that if he could get Captain Millet to the ground, he might 
hold him there till help came. On the other side Millet’s 
main thought was to put into execution his threat ; force 
Huish to his knees, and there make him humbly ask pardon 
and take such an oath as he should prescribe. 


PROLOGUE. 


*7 


The upshot of the struggle was very different, though, 
from what either had imagined, and one that strongly 
influenced their future lives. 

As the struggle was resumed, the better training of Millet, 
who was hard and spare, began to tell upon Huish, whose 
life of ease had not fitted him for so arduous an encounter. 
His breath was drawn heavily, and at rapid intervals; his 
grasp of his adversary was less firm; the big drops stood 
upon his face, and a singing noise began to sound in his 
ears, while the thought which made him feel infuriate 
seemed about to be realized, and in imagination he saw 
himself humbled befrore his friend. 

In fact, the latter nearly had him at his mercy as they 
now swayed to and fro, and tightening his grasp with one 
hand, he suddenly lowered the other, and catching Huish 
at a disadvantage, he would in another instant have thrown 
him, when, maddened by desperation, Huish dashed him- 
self forward to forestall his antagonist’s effort, Millet’s heel 
caught in a furze-bush, and the two men fell heavily against 
the rough fence. 

There was a sharp crack made by the breaking wood, 
the rushing noise of falling earth and stones, and the next 
moment Huish was clinging to the rough stem of a bunch 
of golden broom, hanging at arm’s length over the gravel- 
pit, while from beneath him came up a dull, heavy thud as 
of some fallen body. 

Faint, sick, breathless, and ready to loose his hold, 
Huish clung there in an agony of desperation for a few 
moments. The trees, the clouds above him, seemed to be 
whirling round, and he closed his eyes preparatory to 
falling in his turn. 

Then came the reaction, and, how he afterwards hardly 
knew, he made two or three desperate efforts to find rest 
for his feet, but only at first to send down avalanche after 
avalanche of stones and earth. Then one foot rested on a 
piece of old stump, and he was able to take some of the 
strain off his arms, resting there panting, and with a 
strange creeping sensation assailing his nerves as he 
thought that in a few minutes at most he must fall. 

He glanced down once, to see that the stones were some 
thirty or forty feet below ; and in his then position the 
height seemed dreadful, and with a shudder he wrenched 
his gaze away and looked up, thinking now of escape. 


l8 


PROLOGUE . 


The stem he clung to was pretty strong, but the shrub 
was only rooted in the gravelly side of the pit, and at any 
moment it might be torn out by his weight. In fact, it 
seemed already to be giving way. But now his breath 
came in less labored fashion, and the power to act began 
to return, the result being that he took in at a glance his 
situation, and, stretching out one of his feet, he found for 
it a more secure resting-place, one which enabled him to 
get hold of a stronger and tougher shrub, and draw himself 
to where he could stand in comparative safety, with the 
fence only some five feet above his hands. 

Could he reach that, or must he descend ? 

He glanced down again. 

Descent was impossible, for the side of the pit was eaten 
away by the weather, and receded from him, so once more 
with a shudder he looked up. 

Yes, there was a clump of furze a foot or two higher, just 
on the edge where the grass reached before the gravel 
began to recede. Could he reach that ? 

For a few moments he hesitated to make the attempt — 
it was so hazardous, for, even should he reach it, the roots 
might give way. Then, rendered desperate by his position, 
and feeling sure that his fall must be the work of a few 
minutes if he stayed where he was, he gathered himself 
together, drew a long breath, made a tremendous effort, 
and got hold of the stout stem of the furze-bush, which 
tore and scarified his wrists. But that was not heeded, 
and drawing his feet up, he struggled vainly for a few 
moments to get some place of rest for them, but only for 
the gravel and stones to keep crumbling away. 

Another minute of «uch effort and he must have fallen. 
It was only by letting himself hang by his hands with out- 
stretched arms that he could just rest one foot upon a great 
stone embedded in the face of the pit. Small as it was, 
though, it was rest, and he remained quiescent once more. 

As he hung there with nerves throbbing, and a strange 
aching sensation beginning to numb his muscles, he felt 
once more that he must fall, and so overpowering was the 
thought that he nearly loosened his hold. But the dread 
of death prevailed, and making a fresh effort, he drew 
himself up quickly, gained a hold for the toe of one boot, 
made a snatch at a root a little higher, then at another, 
and his feet rested upon the furze stem. Another 


PROLOGUE. 


*9 


effort, and lie had hold of one of the posts of the open 
fence, and the next minute he had crawled through the 
broken portion, struggled to his feet, and sunk down upon 
the heath, giddy, exhausted and ready to faint. 

In a few minutes he had recovered himself, and getting 
up, he was fain to take off the stout bottom joint of his fly- 
rod, which, with its spear, made a sturdy support as he 
went to the edge of the pit, and, with a shrinking sensation 
that he could not master, gazed down below. 

He turned shuddering away, and walked a dozen paces 
to where he could make his way down through the trees 
to the bottom of a slope, where, parting the bushes, he 
directly after stood in the Cart-track, now grown over with 
grass and heather, but which had once been the way used 
by those who carted the gravel. 

His giddiness wore off, and gave place to a terrible 
feeling of dread as he walked hastily on, parting at last 
some low growing twigs of birch, to stand beside the 
prostrate body of his adversary. 

Millet was lying upon his back with one leg bent under 
him, and his arm in an unnatural position, and as James 
Huish gazed down upon him, the horrible thought occurred 
to him that the end of his affair of gallantry, as he termed 
it, might be a trial for murder. 

As this thought presented itself, bitter repentance 
attacked him ; his knees shook beneath him, and at last he 
fell upon them beside the body of his farmer friend, to 
moan in agony, 

“ God help me, what have I done ? ” 

He took the fallen man’s hand, and laid the arm in a 
natural position. 

It was broken. 

He then tried to lay his leg in its normal place, but 
there was something wrong; he could not tell what. And 
now he did what he might have been expected to do first, 
laid his hand upon the breast to try and find out if the in- 
jured man still lived. 

He started to his feet then with the cold perspiration 
bedewing his forehead, and, gazing sharply round, he ex- 
claimed : 

“ I call Heaven to witness I never meant him harm.” 

Then, throwing himself upon his knees, he began to 
examine the injured man once more, with feverish haste 


20 


PROL OGUE. 


tearing open his shirt-front, laying his ear close to his lips, 
and ending by scooping up some clear water with both his 
hands from a little pool hard by, and dashing it in the 
prostrate man’s face. 

“ I little thought it would come to this. Rob — can you 
hear me ? My God ! ” he groaned, “ he must be dead.” 

At that moment, to his great joy, the injured man 
moaned slightly, and, to Huish’s great relief, at last opened 
his eyes, and gazed vacantly round. 

“ Can you drink some of this? ” said Huish eagerly, as 
he unscrewed the top of a small flask, and held it to the 
other’s lips. 

Millet swallowed a few drops, and soon the vacant look 
passed from his eyes, and he groaned heavily. 

“ Huish,” he said hoarsely. “ You’ve given me — my 
death-blow — hope first — now my life.” 

“No, no — no, no !” exclaimed Huish. “Can you bear 
for me to leave you now ? I’ll run for help.” 

“ Stop,” exclaimed Millet, making an effort to rise, and 
sinking back with a groan of agony. “ Stop ! come 
closer.” 

Huish obeyed, and held the flask once more to his lips, 
but it was pushed aside. 

“Is this manslaughter or murder?” he said, with a 
bitter smile. 

“ I protest to Heaven,” began Huish. 

“ Huish ! Listen ! That poor girl — Mary — now — quick, 
at once — swear to me by all you hold sacred — you will — • 
at once — make her your wife.” 

Millet’s face was ghastly pale, and he spoke with diffi- 
culty, but one hand now grasped the wrist of Huish with a 
firm hold, and his eyes were fixed upon those of the man 
who bent over him with feverish intensity. 

“Yes, yes, I will— on my soul, I will,” cried Huish, 
with frantic vehemence. “ Rob, old fellow, if I could 
undo ” 

“You cannot. Quick, man ; swear it — you will marry 
her — at once.” 

“ I swear I will,” cried Huish. 

“ So help you God.” 

“ So help me, God ! ” exclaimed Huish, “ and help me 
now,” he added in agony, “ for he is dying.” 

“ Here — below there — Hi ! ” shouted a voice from the 
pathway above. “ What’s the matter ? ” 


PROLOGUE . 


21 


il Quick, quick, help ! ” cried Huish, and his appeal was 
answered by rapid footsteps, the rustling of bushes, and 
directly after, a short, broad-shouldered young man, with a 
large head and keen gray eyes, was at his side. 

“ I say,” he cried ; “ struggle up above, broken fence, 
man killed ! ” 

Huish started back, staring at him with dilated eyes, 
and then by an effort he exclaimed : 

“ Quick — run — the nearest doctor, man.” 

“ Six miles away,” was the sharp reply, “ I’m a sucker — ■ 
medical stoo,” he added ; and pulling off his coat, he 
rapidly rolled it into a pad for a pillow before proceeding 
in a business-like way to examine the fallen man’s injuries. 
“ I say, this is bad — arm broken — hip joint out — hold still, 
old fellow, I won’t hurt you,” he said, as his patient 
moaned. “ You’d better go for help. I’ll stay. Leave 
me that flask ; and, I say, just see if my fishing tackle’s all 
right : I left it up at the top.” Then, as if inspired by the 
words uttered by the injured man a few minutes before, he 
exclaimed : “ I say, I don’t know that I ought to let you 
go ; is this manslaughter or murder? ” 

“ No,” moaned Millet, unclosing his eyes, and speaking 
in a hoarse whisper — “ my old friend — an accident — sir — 
an accident.” 

“ I say, the brandy, man, the brandy,” cried the new- 
comer. “ By Jove, lie’s fainted.” 

“ He’s dead — he’s dead,” groaned Huish frantically, as he 
sank upon his knees and caught his friend’s hand. “ Rob, 
old fellow, I’d give my life that this had not happened ; but 
I’ll keep my word ; I’ll keep my word.” 


CHAPTER III. 

FOSTER-PARENTS. 

As Jane Glyne said, just, four miles away from The Dingle 
was a low, long range of hovels, roughly built in the 
coarsest manner, and so covered in that but for a stuffing 
of straw here and there, the bleak winds and rain that 
come even in summer could beat through with all their 
force. 


22 


PROLOGUE . 


The hovels were built on the unity principle — one room 
— one door — one chimney — one window, and they stood in 
a row close by the bank of a canal which formed the great 
highway co and from the dirty Goshen of these modern 
children of Israel. 

But they were not Jews any more than they were 
Christians : they were simply work-people — the slaves who 
made bricks without straw, and not for the use of a king 
of Egypt, but for modern Babylon. 

The canal was the great highway to this settlement, which 
stood in an earth-gnawed desert of its own ; but all the 
same there was a rugged pathway which led towards the 
pretty stream on whose bank stood Mrs. Riversley’s cot- 
tage, passable in fine weather, a slough in wet ; and there 
was a roadway for carts, a horribly churned up mingling 
of mud and water, along which chariot wheels drave 
heavily to work woe upon that patient martyr of ours — 
the horse. 

It was not a pleasant spot that brick-field, and seemed 
to have been thrust out far from the habitations of ordin- 
ary men. It was not salubrious, but then its subsoil was 
of the stiffest clay. Here the brickmakers lived grega- 
riously, each hovel containing as many as it would hold. 
Here four or five men “ pigged ” together. It was their 
own term, and most appropriate. In another hovel, a 
young couple would have three young men lodgers, while 
the occupants of other dens would have done the same, 
only that their swarming children did not give room for 
lodgers to lie down, the superficies of the floors being small. 

A desolate-looking spot on a flat expanse, through which 
the canal, erst a river, ran. It was once a series of pleasant 
meadows, but Babylon swallows many bricks. Hence the 
tract had been delved all over into a chaos of clay, where 
long rows of bricks stood drying, while others were being 
made. Stagnant water covered with green scum lay in the 
holes whence clay had been dug, while other holes were 
full of liquid mud. Dirt-pie-making by horse-power seemed 
to be going on all day long, and soft mud mixtures were 
formed, water being run into banked-up lakes by means of 
wooden troughs, while every here and there wretched horses, 
blindfolded so that they should not resent their task, seemed 
to be turning torture machines to break up so much obsti- 
nate clay upon the wheel. 


PROLOGUE . 


23 


The breeze there was not a balmy wind, laden with sweet 
floral odors, but a solid gritty breeze, being the musty, ill- 
savored, sifted ashes of the great city, brought in proces- 
sions of barges to mix with the clay, to be burned and go 
back as so much brick. 

“ Bring that bairn here,” cried a shrill voice, proceeding 
from a being, who, but for the shaping of the scanty gar- 
ment she had on, might have been taken for a clay-daubed 
man. Her long cotton dress clung close to her figure, for 
it was soaked with water, and on “ that bairn,” a tiny little 
morsel whose experience of the world was not many hours 
old, being brought to her by a half-naked girl of ten with 
something cotton upon her, but more clay, the infant was 
tended in a maternal way for some little time, during which 
the woman, as she rocked herself to and fro, made use of 
an unoccupied hand to draw a piece of rag from her pocket, 
and then, much to the discomfort of the infant, she tied up 
in the corners and middle of the rag, with as many knots, 
five new, bright sovereigns. 

“ Look out, mother,” cried the girl, but her warning 
came too late : a heavy-looking man in half a shirt, and a 
pair of trousers held up by a strap, and who seemed to go 
by machinery, for he emitted puffs of smoke from a short 
black pipe as he moved, made a snatch at the rag, and thrust 
it into his pocket. 

“ I’ll take care o’ that ’ere,” he growled ; and, as the 
woman uttered a resentful cry, he “ made an offer” at her 
with the back of his hand, and then began puffing smoke 
once more, and moved away. 

The woman cowered down to avoid the expected blow, 
muttered viciously to herself, and at last rose, and tucked 
the babe into an improvised bed of rags in the shelter of a 
shed. This, by the way, was only a sloping roof of boards 
some six feet by five, covering the rough bench upon which 
a brickmaker works, and being unoccupied just then, came 
in handy for the purpose to which it was put. 

“ I’ll have that back agen, old man,” the woman mut- 
tered to herself. “ Just wait till you’re asleep. Now then,” 
she cried aloud to sundry clayey imps who were at work 
fetching and carrying the plastic mass with which they 
were daubed, “ keep a hye on this bairn, all on yer. If 
Bill Jones' dawg comes anigh, let go at him.” 

Saying this, she joined “ father,” who under the next 
shed was puffing away as he worked, a puff being emitted 


24 


PROLOGUE . 


as each brick was made in its mould, and turned out upon 
a board. 

“ When’s she coinin’ agen about that there kid ? ” 
growled father. 

“ Wait and see,” said the woman surlily, as she attacked 
a mass of clay, as if it were so much dough, pinched off 
pieces, and roughly shaped them into loaves a little larger 
than a brick ready for the man to mould. 

Then there was a pause, during which the puffs of smoke 
came with beautiful regularity from the brickmaker’s 
mouth, and as a boy approached, it almost seemed as if he 
were going to stoke father, and put on some more coals ; 
but he only dabbed down a mass of clay which he had 
carried upon his head, whose shape was printed in the 
lump which left a portion amongst the boy’s hair. 

“Think it were Bill Jones’ dawg as took Lamby’s kid, 
mother? ” growled father at last. 

“ Think ? I’m sure on it,” said mother. “ It were there 
one minute, and it were gone the next. Where could it 
ha’ gone if it hadn’t took it.” 

The machinery stopped, for father took his pipe out of 
his mouth, wiped his lips with the back of his clayey hand, 
which was all the cleaner afterwards, father’s lips having 
the character of a short stubbly bristled brush. Then he 
thought for a minute ; the machinery began to go once 
more, a puff of smoke was emitted from his lips and he 
replied : 

“ Dunno ! ” 

“ I think Lamby’s gal, July, dropped it in the canal, and 
was ’fraid to tell,” said the girl in the clay robe shrilly. 

“ You hold your noise, and look alive wi’ them 
lumps,” growled father, who made as if to strike the girl, 
whereupon she ducked down to avoid the expected blow, 
dodged away to a safe distance, put out her tongue, and 
said, “ Yeh ! ” and the other children — four — all engaged 
in carrying clay, laughed and ran to avoid blows. 

They varied in age from five to fourteen, and were all 
richly clothed in clay, which coated them from their hair 
— tangled and hardened with the worked up adhesive soil 
— to their very toes, which printed their shapes in the 
moist ground they trod. 

Father seeming disposed to “ hull ” one of the moulds at 
them, they all hastened away to the clay mill — a machine 


PROLOGUE . 


25 


like a great churn bound with many strong iron hoops and 
with a thumper or plunger therein, to which a long wooden 
bar was attached, harnessed to one end of which was 
another blindfolded skeleton of a horse, which still retained 
its skin and vitality, and went round and round despond- 
ently, as if under the impression that it was going straight 
forward ; but a sharp jerk of the head seemed to say from 
time to time : “ It doesn’t matter ; it will not be for long.” 

At the bottom of the great mill, in a gloomy hole, was a 
clayey man in a kind of rough apron, and armed with a- 
piece of wire two feet long, whose ends were twisted round 
a couple of pieces of wood to form handles. 

As the mill turned, the well-mixed clay was forced 
through the bottom in a mass some ten inches in. diameter, 
which from time to time the man dexterously cut through 
with his wire, and passed the pieces to the children who 
came for fresh supplies. 

One took the heavy fat lump, and hugged it to its breast, 
making a mould in the top for its little chin. Another 
had it dabbed upon its curly head ; another bore it upon 
the shoulder, leaving therein the print of the ear ; but the 
favorite way seemed to be to hug it to the breast back to 
the shed, where mother seized it and went on making her 
brown loaves. 

Father, whose external machinery consisted of some 
water, some dry, sandy earth, and a little oblong box the 
shape of the brick, seized the brown loaves his wife passed 
to him, gave them a dexterous dab which forced them into 
the mould, scraped off the top level with the sides, pushed 
it along on a board, raised the mould, ai.d left there a soft 
clav brick. 

Then with regular puffs the process was repeated again 
and again, while a man with a strange-shaped barrow 
removed the new soft bricks and bore them away. 

At the first sight it seemed as if the babe Jane Glyne 
had brought had fallen amongst savages, but they were 
English fellow-creatures, living — existing rather — not so 

very far from the centre of civilization, and bricks are 

in great demand. 

As the work went on in its muddy monotony, an evil- 
looking, long- jawed dog, the very opposite of the hound in 
the legend who slew the wolf to save his master’s child, 
came slinking and sniffing about the sheds. He was a 


26 


PROLOGUE. 


lean, starving, wolfish, mangy cur, with reddish glaring 
eyes, always on the watch for kicks and blows. Ke would 
have been a big dog had he been fed, but want of food 
appeared to have produced a bad crop of hair upon his 
skin, and given him a thin shadowy look even to his head, 
which seemed to have been starved into a snarl and a set 
of teeth. 

The dog slunk here and slunk there for a time, till his 
keen senses led him towards where, some fifty yards away, 
one of the brickmakers’ dinners lay within his. reach. 
Giving a sharp glance round, he had already opened his 
sharp jaws to snatch up the knotted handkerchief which 
held a basin, when a well-aimed, half-dried brick struck 
him in the ribs, which emitted a cavernous drummy sound, 
and with a sharp yelp the brute bounded off. 

But he was too hungry to be driven right away, and 
before long he stopped short, screwed himself round, and 
soothed the injured spot with half a dozen licks. Then, 
wild of eye and wolfish of aspect, he turned once more 
towards the sheds to seek for food. 

He whined a little, either from pain or from an injured 
feeling — his amour propre telling him that dogs must live 
as well as the savages round whose camp he prowled. 
Then, forgetting one pain external in a greater one within, 
he set off once more, but this time displaying a caution 
worthy of a wolf as he neared the shed where father, 
mother, and the clayey children were all so busily at work 
making tfieir summer harvest — too busy to mind the 
wretched foster-child, which, after feebly appealing against 
the neglect, and turning its little face to and fro in search 
of something warm, had gone off fast asleep. 


CHAPTER IV. 

INOCULATED FOR A WOLF. 

Suddenly in the midst of the work there was the sound of 
a whip cracking, accompanied by loud oaths, many of 
them very red, shouts, and the jerking noise of chain har- 
ness. 


PROLOGUE. 


27 


It was nothing new, but being a diversion from the 
monotony of their work, half the brickmakers stopped to 
look on. 

The remnant of a fine horse was in the shafts of a 
heavily-laden sand cart, which he had dragged for some 
distance through the tenacious mud of the deeply-cut ruts, 
till, coming to a softer place than usual, one wheel had 
gone down nearly to the nave in the mire, tilting the cart 
sideways, and every frantic struggle made by the poor 
beast only seemed to set it more fast. Its hoofs, which 
sank deeply, churned up the mud and water, and it stood 
still at last with heaving flanks, its great earnest eyes 
staring appealingly at its masters, while the blindfolded 
skeleton in the clay mill went round and round, then 
stopped short, and gave its head a jerk, as if saying once 
more, “ it doesn’t matter ; it will not be for long.” 

Click , clack , clack went the whip, and the skeleton in the 
mill started energetically once more, while the horse in the 
cart struggled spasmodically to move the load, much of its 
strength being, however, exhausted by extricating its hoofs 
from the clayey, sticky mud. 

Click , clack, clack went the whip once more, and as Jane 
Glyne came along panting and perspiring with the weight 
of her bundle a little crowd of clayey savages began to 
collect. 

The horse struggled with a piteous expression in the 
wrinkles above its starting eyes ; its flanks heaved ; they 
moistened the lash of the cruel whip, and still it strove ; 
but the cart wheels had sunk so low that a team could 
hardly have dragged it out, and the willing beast vainly 
essayed the impossible. A dozen strong men stood around, 
as many shovels were within reach ready to remove the 
clay from the wheels, and partially dig them out ; but, as 
Jane Glyne looked on, in a strange, hard, callous manner, 
no one made a move, not a hand was placed to a wheel- 
spoke to help with a few pounds the laboring beast. Cart- 
loads of hard broken brick rubbish lay about that could 
have been thrown down to fill up the ruts ; but not a bar- 
rowful was brought, and amidst a shower of oaths, there 
was added, to make it a storm, a shower of blows. 

The horse’s struggles grew interesting, and as the little 
crowd increased pipes were replenished, and the heavy 
clay-sullied men looked on. 


28 


PROLOGUE . 


More blows, more struggles ; but the cart sank deeper, 
and was not likely to be moved, for, in spite of the frantic 
way in which the horse plunged into its collar, it could not 
stir the load an inch. Not an inch, strong as it was ; but 
there is exhaustion even for the strongest, and at last the 
poor brute stood deep in the tenacious mud, with wet 
heaving flanks, staring eyes, and trembling in eveiy limb. 

“ Here, give us holt ! ” cried father ; and his children 
brought up in this earthly school looked on with glee. 

“ Father ’ll soon fetch him out,” said the eldest boy ; 
and it seemed that at last the poor brute was to get some 
help. But it was not help the horse was to have, for the 
whip was handed to father. 

“ Take holt on his head,” he cried to the man in charge, 
and the latter ruffian seized the rein, and began to jerk and 
drag the bit savagely. 

“Jeet — jeet — aw — a — a — ya ! Hoot!” roar the ruffian, 
with a hot burst of oaths, while father, puffing regularly his 
smoke, turned his machinery to bear upon the poor dumb 
brute, and with a grim smile lashed and cut at it, ingeni- 
ously seeking out the tender parts beneath. 

“ Gie’t ’im, lad. Gie’t ’im,” rose in chorus. 

The poor trembling horse, roused by the stinging thong, 
shot into the collar in a way that broke one of the chains 
that linked it to the shaft, and then as a more cruel lash 
fell upon its side, it fell upon its knees, the cart shafts pin- 
ning it down as the load sank forward. Now followed 
more lashing, the horse struggled frantically, rolled over, 
dragging its legs from the mud, plunged and struck out as 
if galloping, though its hoofs only beat the mud and 
water. Then it raised its head two or three times as if 
trying to regain its feet, before letting it subside into the 
mud, and the eye that was visible began to roll. 

“ Get up ! ” roared father, with a burst of oaths, and 
again the whip came into play. 

But it was an order that the poor brute, willing to the 
last, could not obey, pinned down as it was by the shafts 
and the weight of the sand. At the first cut of the whip, 
though, the horse struck out with its hoofs, sending the 
mud flying, and causing a roar of laughter amongst the 
crowd as father was bespattered from head to foot. Then 
there was a curious gasping cry as the horse threw up its 
head ; a shiver ran through its heaving frame ; a couple of 


PROLOGUE. 


29 


jets of blood started from its nostrils ; there was a strange 
sigh, and the head fell heavily down in the nnid and 
water. 

Even then there was a sharp lash given with the whip, 
just as a convulsive kick or two splashed up the mud, 
before the willing beast lay motionless ; it had broken its 
heart — no metaphor here for excess of sorrow, but the 
simple truth, while the listening skeleton in the mill gave 
its head another jerk, and seemed to say, “ I knew it 
wouldn’t be for long.” 

“ Well——” 

Father did not finish his sentence, for Jane Glyne uttered 
a loud shriek and dropped her bundle in the mud just as a 
shout arose from one of father’s clay-daubed sons. 

“ Hi ! chivy him,” roared the boy. “ Bill Jones’ dawg 
has got that kid.” 

It was too true : the wolfish starveling beast had 
watched his opportunity while the crowd was occupied, 
slinked up to the shed, seized the babe by one arm, and 
was stealing cautiously off, when the boy turned and saw 
him, shouted, gave chase, and the savage brute broke into 
a heavy lumbering canter. 

For a short distance he dragged the child along the 
earth ; then, with a dexterous twist, he threw it over his 
shoulders and increased his pace. 

“ Hi ! stop him, hi ! ” roared a score of voices which 
echoed through the brickfield, and men, women, and 
children came hurrying from all parts to take up the 
chase. 

For they saw in a moment what had taken place, and the 
hunt roused all to a pitch of excitement consequent upon 
the evil reputation borne by “ Bill Jones’ dawg.” 

This being the case, the way off to the open fields where 
the woodland and stream lay beyond the flat plain was 
closed, and for a moment or two the dog halted and threw 
up his head to see that he was hemmed in on three sides 
by enemies, while at his back was the canal, and for water 
he had no love. 

Enemies they were indeed, for the brickfield savages were 
human, after all, and every man, woman, and child was 
armed with shovel, stick, or well-burned fragment of refuse 
brick — this last, a missile that he knew by heart as angular 
and sharp ; and dog as he was, he had sense enough to 


30 


PROLOGUE. 


feel that, if taken, they would pound the life out of his 
wretched carcase on the spot. 

If he had dropped his prey, he might have shown his 
pursuers a clean pair of heels ; but he was hungry — 
wolfishly hungry, and more savage than domestic as he 
was, he literally knew the t iste of that which he held 
between his teeth. He would have died the death before, 
on suspicion, had not Bill, his master, interposed. Now, 
however, he saw the said Bill armed with a clay spade, 
although he whistled to him to come. But “ Bill Jones’ 
dawg ” knew too well the treachery of the human heart, 
and would not listen to whistle nor following call. 

Which way should he go? Towards that frantic woman 
who had torn off her shawl? No. There was the clinker 
kiln, where a whole burning of bricks was spoiled. He 
could not reach the open — he would have been cut off as 
he went, and chopped with spades, and stunned with 
brick-bats ; but there was that kiln standing old and 
weather-beaten, a very sanctuary of bricks burned into solid 
masses, full in view, though a quarter of a mile lower by 
the other works. Yes, there was that kiln abounding in 
convenient holes, where he had often spent the night; he 
might reached there in safety with his prey, and then 

“ Hi ! stop him — stop him ! ” 

The yelling crowd was closing in and growing more 
dangerous every moment, so the dog took a tighter grip of 
his prize, and made straight for the old kiln. 

Brickmaking was impossible in the face of such a chase, 
and everyone joined in, with the full determination that 
this day “ Bill Jones’ dawg ” must die. 

“ Hi ! stop him — stop him ! ” 

By an ingenious double or two, the dog nearly reached 
the refuge that he sought, but he was cut off and turned 
back by swift-footed boys, yelling with excitement and 
panting to hurl the first lump of brick at the hated beast. 
But the dog kept out of harm’s way by running between 
the rows of piled-up, unburnt bricks, which afforded him 
shelter, and the baby, too, for missiles went flying after 
them at every chance. 

Up this row, down that, and zigzag to and fro, till the 
canal was near, and the forces joining, the dog was nearly 
driven to leap into the foul stagnant water ; but again he 
doubled, passed through an opening, and was once more in 


PROLOGUE . 


3i 


the shelter between two rows of bricks, cantering along 
towards the end. Here, though, he was cut off again by 
one of the lads, who, divining the course he had taken, 
shouted to part of the contingent, and turned the wily brute 
back. 

But he was not beaten. He was starving, but he was 
hard and strong : no fattened, asthmatic favorite was he, 
but long-winded and lank, ready to run for an hour yet, 
even with the load he bore. Wily too, as his relative the 
fox, he cleverly doubled in and out, in the maze-like rows 
of wet bricks, avoiding as if by magic the missiles that 
were thrown ; and at last, just as the boys were driving 
him back towards the spade-armed men, whom he had 
from the first given a wide berth, he cleverly dashed for 
the weak part in the advancing line of lads, passed them, 
put on all his pace, and went away for the kiln. 

There were swift runners amongst those lightly-clad, 
barefooted boys, and now that it had become a tail race, 
away they went with all their might, faster and faster, and 
yelling till they were hoarse. For there were shouts and 
cries of encouragement from behind, enough to spur on 
the greatest laggard, and on they went till the dog reached 
the old kiln and tried to enter a low hole, probably the 
one he made his den. 

Here, though, he had a check, by the clothes of the 
infant catching in the rough scoria, when — fox-like — he 
backed out, turned and then began to back in. 

That momentary check saved the child: for just as it 
was disappearing in the opening, the foremost boy bounded 
up, caught the infant by its leg, and the long robe it wore, 
and, pulling and shouting hard, succeeded in drawing the 
wretched little object back, the dog snarling savagely, and 
holding on with all his might; but just then half a brick 
smote him on the* head, he loosed his hold, and, backing 
in, the child with its lacerated arm and shoulder was held 
up on high amidst the cheering of the boys. 

In another minute the panting crowd surrounded the 
opening, and Jane Glyne had the baby in her arms, 
wondering whether it was alive or dead. 

The tragedy was not over yet. 

Bill Jones stood amongst the men, and was for defending 
his “ dawg,” but the blood of all present was thoroughly 


32 


PROLOGUE . 


roused, and although Bill declared his readiness to fight 
any man present for a pot, he soon cried off on finding that 
his challenge was taken up by a score of fellow-workers, 
half of whom began to prepare for the trial by battle on 
the spot. 

“ I don’t keer what you do wi’ the dawg,” Bill growled, 
taking out and beginning to fill his pipe, and directly after 
joining in the attempt about to be made to get the beast 
out of his place of refuge. 

Forming themselves into a semicircle round the opening, 
a part stood ready, while some of the sturdiest brickmakers 
began to drag the burrs apart, a task in which they had 
not been long engaged, standing upon the heap, before 
there was a rustling noise ; the old rough bricks began to 
crumble down inwards ; and with a savage snarl the fright- 
ened dog bounded out. 

There was a shout, a chorus of yells mingled with 
which was the last ever given by “ Bill Jones’ dawg,” for 
his mortal race was run. Even Cerberus of the three heads 
could not have existed many seconds beneath the shower 
of bricks and clinkers that assailed him after the savage 
chop given by father’s spade. One yell only, and there 
was a mass of brick rising over him, the dog’s death and 
burial being a simultaneous act on the part of those who, 
old and young, did not pause until they had erected a rough 
but respectable mausoleum over the wolfish creature’s 
grave. 

“ Put a bit o’ wet 'bacco on the place,” said father, 
removing his pipe as he turned to where Jane Glyne and 
mother were examining the little frail morsel, which, in spite 
of its usage, began now to wail feebly ; “ put a bit o’ wet 
’bacco on the place ; it ain’t dead. There, give it to 
mother ; and, I say, when are you going to pay agen ? ” 

“Never,” cried Jane Glyne, hastily wrapping the baby 
in the shawl now handed by one of the staring girls. 

“ Oh, it ain’t hurt much,” said father ; " put a bit o’ wet 
’bacco on the place.” 

“ Hurt ! ” cried the woman excitedly, as with a newly- 
awakened interest she held the child tightly to her hard 
breast, “ it’s a’most killed, and if it lives, that dog’s teeth 
have poisoned it, and it will go mad.” 

“ Not it,” growled father; “why, the dawg is dead. 
Give it to mother, and I say, when why, she’s gone ! ” 


PROLOGUE . 


33 


He said this after a pause, as he stared after Jane Glyne 
hurrying towards the path where her bundle lay, but think- 
ing more of her little burden, inoculated by the poison of 
those wolfish teeth — blood-poisoned, perhaps, as to its 
mental or bodily state — certainly suffering from lacerations 
that might end its feeble little life. 


END OF PROLOGUE. 


\ 


THE STORY.— YEARS AGO. * 


CHAPTER I. 

CINDERELLA AND THE SISTERS. 

RUTH.” 

“ Yes, dear ; I’ll come directly.” 

“ Ruth ! ” 

“ Be quiet, Clo. She can’t come yet.” 

“ But she must come. Ruth ! ” 

“ May I go to her, Marie ? ” 

“ No, certainly not. Finish my hair first.” 

Two pretty little white patient hands went on busying 
themselves plaiting the rich dark-brown hair of a singularly 
handsome girl, sitting back in a shabby, painted, rush- 
bottomed chair, in a meanly-furnished chamber, whose 
bare boards looked the more chilly for the scraps of carpet 
stretched by bedside, toilet-table, and washstand. 

The bed had not long been left, and the two pillows 
each bore the impress of a head. The bedstead was an 
attenuated four-post structure, with dreary and scanty 
slate-colored hangings, that seemed to have shrunk in their 
many washings, and grown skimpy and faded with time ; 
the rush-bottomed chairs were worn and the seats giving 
way, and a tall painted wardrobe had been scrubbed until 
half the paint had gone. Even the looking-glass upon the 
paltry old dressing-table seemed to have reflected until it 
could perform its duties no more, for the silver had come 
off in patches, and showed <the bare brown wood behind. 

Wherever the eye rested it was upon traces of cleanly, 
Dunctilious poverty, for even the dresses that were hanging 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


36 

from the row of drab-painted wooden pegs nailed against 
the dreary washed-out wall-paper looked mean and in 
keeping with the room. There was not one single attrac- 
tive object of furniture or attire besides, not even a bright 
spring flower in a vase or glass ; all was drab, dreary, and 
dull, and yet the room had objects full of life and light. 

For the girl seated indolently in the chair before the 
glass, draped in a long washed-out dressing-gown that 
heightened rather than hid the graces of her well-developed 
form, possessed features which might have been envied by 
a queen. Her dark, well-arched eyebrows, the long heavy 
lashes that drooped over her large eyes, her creamy com- 
plexion, rather full but well-cut lips and high brow, were 
all those of a beatiful woman whom you would expect to 
look imperious and passionate if she started into motion, 
and raised and flashed upon you the eyes that were intent 
upon a paper-covered French novel, whose leaves she 
turned over from time to time. 

Bending over her, and nimbly arranging the rich hair 
that hung over the reader’s shoulders, was a girl not unlike 
her in feature, but of a fairer and more English type. 
Where the hair of the one was rich and dark, that of the 
other was soft and brown. The contour was much the same, 
but softer, and the eyes were of that delicious well-marked 
gray that accords so well with light nut-brown hair. There 
was no imperious look in her pleasant, girlish counte- 
nance, for it was full of care consequent upon her being 
wanted in two places at once. 

For the sharp demand made upon her was uttered by a 
third occupant of the room — a girl of one or two and 
twenty, sister, without doubt, of the reader at the dressing- 
table, and greatly like her, but darker, her eyebrows and 
hair being nearly black, her complexion of a richer creamy 
hue, one which seemed to indicate the possibility of other 
than English blood being mingled in her veins. 

She, too, was draped in a long washed-out print dressing- 
gown, and as she lolled upon a great box whose top was 
thinly stuffed and covered with chintz to make it do duty 
for an ottoman, her long dark hair fell in masses over her 
shoulders. 

Sisters undoubtedly, and the family resemblance of the 
fair-complexioned girl suggested the possibility of her oc- 
cupying the same relationship, though the difference was 
so marked that cousin seemed more probable. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Finish your own hair,” cried the girl upon the 
in an angry voice. “ I won’t wait any longer ; . 
first and she banged down the circulating librai, 
she had been skimming. 

“ Shan’t ! ” 

“ Bring my hair brush, Ruth.”* 

The girl addressed retained her hold of the massive 
plait that she was forming, and, snatching a well-worn 
hair brush from the table, reached out as far as she could 
from the tether of plait that held her to the girl in the 
chair, when the brush was snatched from her, and sent 
whizzing through the air, narrowly missing the reader’s 
head, but putting an end to the reflective troubles of the 
unfortunate toilet-glass, which was struck right in the 
centre, and shivered into fragments. 

“ Oh ! ” ejaculated Ruth. 

“ Beast ! ” cried Marie, leaping up, sending her chair 
backwards, and dashing the French novel at her sister. 

“Wretch! devil!” retorted the other, her creamy face 
flushing, her dark eyes scintillating with passion, and her 
ruddy lips parting from her regular white teeth, as she 
retaliated by throwing the book she held, but with a very 
bad aim. 

“ For a moment it seemed as if blows were to follow, 
but after a short skirmish with a comb, an empty scent- 
bottle, and a pin-cushion, the beginner of the fight uttered 
a cry of triumph, and pounced upon the French novel. 

“ I wanted that,” she cried. 

“ Ruth, fetch back that book,” cried Marie. 

“ Please give me that book back, Clotilde,” said tne 
obedient girl, as, crossing the room, she held out her hand 
to the angry beauty. 

For answer, the maiden upon the box caught her by the 
wrist with both hands, bent her head rapidly down, and 
fixed her white teeth in the soft, round arm. 

“ There, take that, and I wish it was Rie’s. Now you 
stop here, and do my hair directly. Hateful little beast ! 
why didn’t you come before ? ” 

The blood flushed up in Ruth’s face, and little troubled 
lines made their appearance in her forehead as, after a 
piteous glance at the other sister, she began to brush the 
great flowing bands of dark hair waiting their turn. 

“ I don’t care,” said Marie, with all the aggravating 
petulance of a child. “ Mine was just done.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


i've got the book,” retorted the other. “ Be care- 
„• beast ; don’t pull it out by the roots.” 
w turned her face up sharply to the busy toiler, with 

c effect that she dragged her own hair, and this time she 
struck the girl so sharply on the cheek with the open hand 
that the tears started to her eyes. 

“ Nasty, spiteful, malicious wretch ! ” said Marie, giving 
the finishing touches to her own hair ; “ but you’ll have a 
good lecture for breaking the glass. Aunties will be an- 
gry.” 

“ I shall say Ruth did it,” said the girl. 

“ Just like you, Clo,” retorted the other. 

“ If you call me Clo again, I’ll — I’ll poison you.” 

“Shall if I like: Clo, old Clo — Jew — Jew — Jew! 
There ! ” 

As she spoke, Marie turned her mocking countenance 
to her sister, and finished off by making what children call 
“a face,” by screwing up her mouth and nose : desisting, 
however, as Clotilde made a dash at the water-glass to 
throw it at her head, and then made a faint of spitting at 
her in a feline way. 

The whole affair seemed to be more the quarrel of vulgar, 
spoiled childen of nine or ten than an encounter between 
a couple of grown women in the springtide of their youth, 
and Ruth silently glanced from one to the other with a 
troubled, half-pitying expression of countenance ; but she 
did not speak until the noise had begun to lull. 

“ Please don’t say that I broke the glass,” she said at 
last. 

“ I shall. Hold your tongue, miss. She broke it 
' through her wretched carelessness, didn’t she, Rie ? ” 

“ Give me back the French book, and I’ll tell you,” was 
the reply. 

“Take your nasty old French book,” said Clotilde, 
throwing it back. “ I’ve read it all. and it’s horribly 
naughty. Now, then, didn’t she break ihe glass ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Marie, arranging her shabby morning dress, 
and standing before the fragments of the toilet glass, a 
handsome, lady-like girl, whose beauty no shabbiness of 
costume could conceal. 

“There,” said Clotilde, “do you hear, Cindy? You 
broke the glass, and if you say you didn’t I’ll make your 
wretched little life miserable.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


39 


“ Very well, dear, I’ll say I did,” said Ruth calmly. 

“ Hist, Rie ! The book ! ” whispered Clotilde, her sharp 
ears having detected a coming step. 

Marie made a pantherine bound across the room, and 
thrust the book between the mattress and paillasse just as 
the handle rattled, and a tall, gaunt, elderly woman entered 
the room. 

She was not pleasant to look upon, for there was too 
much suggestion of a draped scaffold erected for the 
building of a female human figure about her hard square 
bony form, while her hard face, which seemed to wrinkle 
only about the forehead, as if it had never smiled since 
childhood, was not made more pleasant by the depth and 
darkness of the lines in her brow all being suggestiveof the 
soap and flannel never probing their depths, which was 
not the case, however, for she v/as scrupulously clean, 
even to her blonde cap, and its side whiskers with a sad- 
colored flower in each. 

“ Morning, children,” she said harshly. “ Your aunts ’ll 
be down directly. You ought to be dressed by now.” 

“ Morning, nurse,” said the girls in chorus. 

“ Ruth’s so slow,” said Clotilde. 

“ Then do your hair yourself,” said the woman roughly. 
“ Ruth, child, turn down that bed, and open the window.” 

Their actions before her arrival had been those. of child- 
ren ; she treated them like children, and they were as 
obedient and demure now as little girls, while the woman 
placed a large white jug containing a tablespoon upon the 
table, and a plain tumbler beside it. 

Ruth began to open the bed, and Marie cast anxious 
eyes at the part where her French novel lay perdu . 

“ ’Tisn’t physic morning again, nurse,” said Clotilde 
pettishly. 

“ Yes, it is, miss, so don’t you grumble. You know it’s 
Wednesday as well as I do.” 

Clotilde turned her head a^ay, and gave ner teeth an 
angry snap as she went on rapidly dressing, while the new 
arrival poured out half a tumbler of a dark-brown fluid 
from the jug, after giving the said jug a twirl round to 
amalgamate its contents. This tumbler was handed to 
Clotilde. 

“ I’m not ready, nurse,” she said pettishly ; “ leave it 
on the table, and we’ll take it. We shall be down directlv-” 


4 o 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ I don’t go till I can tell your aunts that every drop’s 
taken,” said the woman sturdily. “ I know your tricks, 
making Miss Ruth drink it all. Both of you did last time.” 

“ Did Ruth dare to say we did ? ” cried Marie sharply. 

“ No, she didn’t miss, so don’t you go in a pet.” 

“ Then how could you tell ? ” cried Clotilde. 

“ How could I tell, big baby? ” said the woman scorn- 
fully ; “ why, wouldn’t three doses make her ill ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Ugh ! filthy stuff ! ” said Clotilde, taking 
the tumbler, drinking off the brown draught, and shudder- 
ing afterwards. She set down the glass, which was, after 
another flourish of the white jug, the spoon being held 
captive by the woman’s thumb, half filled again. 

“ Now, Miss Marie.” 

Marie made a grimace, and drank her portion in turn, 
after which Ruth swallowed hers with the patience and 
long-suffering of custom. 

“ Now, Miss Clotilde,” said the woman, picking out 
something dark from the bottom of the jug with the spoon, 
“ here’s your prune.” 

This was held out in the spoon, and it was ludicrous to 
see the handsome, womanly girl open her ruddy lips to 
admit the brown swollen morsel, a similar process being 
gone through with Marie and Ruth. 

“ There, children, don’t make such a fuss about it,” said 
the woman. “ It’s lucky for you that you’ve got aunties 
who take such care of you. Pretty skins and complexions 
you’d have if you weren’t looked after, and when you 
grow up, if you’re wise, you’ll treat yourselves just the 
same. Now then, make haste down.” 

This was uttered as she left the room and closed the 
door, after which Clotilde waited till her steps were inau- 
dible, when she stamped with both her feet, and ground 
her teeth like an angry child. 

“ Oh, oh, oh ! ” she cried. “The disgusting, filthy stuff. 
I’m sick of it all, Rie. I’ll run away with the first man 
who asks me, even if he’s a sweep. I hate it ; I hate every- 
thing ; I hate myself, and won’t submit any longer. We’re 
not children, and I won’t have it. Where’s our spirit, that 
we don’t rebel ? ” 

“ Where could we go ? What could we do ? ” replied 
Marie. “ It’s horrible. How could we bear it all these 
weary years ? ’ 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


41 


She clasped her hands, and thievv herself into her chair, 
rocking herself to and fro, while Ruth crept softly to her 
side, and placed her blonde face against the riper, rounder 
cheek of her cousin. 

It was a mute way of showing her sympathy, and Marie 
felt it to be so, for she turned quickly and kissed her just 
as the loud jangle of a large hand-bell was heard from 
below, and Clotilde returned from the open window. 

“ Come down, girls,” she said bitterly ; “ there’s the 
bell. Old Markes didn’t see the broken glass. Go on, 
Ruthy, and let’s get prayers over, or you’ll be afraid to tell 
that fib.” 

The bell was still clanging as the three girls went down 
the one flight of stairs contained in their aunts’ share of 
the private apartments at Hampton Court, at the bottom 
of which stairs a tall, thin young man, in a striped jacket, 
was frantically swinging the noisy instrument to and fro — 
having to stop, though, to allow the young ladies to pass, 
when he set down the bell with a clang upon the hearth- 
stoned floor in a dark corner, fiercely dragged a form from 
under the stairs, and carried it into the dining-room. 

It was a brilliant morning in May, but the one window 
of that dark room received none of the sunshine, for it 
looked north, over a festive-looking yard or quadrangle, 
whose stones were mossy and green, kept comfortably damp 
by their proximity to a basin of water, out of which spurts 
of water rose from what looked like pieces of black gaspipe ; 
while three bloated gold and two silver fish swam solemnly 
round and round, gaping placidly, and staring with apo- 
plectic eyes upwards at the strange phenomenon of what 
must have seemed to them like a constant shower of rain. 

The room was lofty, and panelled in regular compart- 
ments, all painted a pale drab, as were also the sides of the 
floor where the well-worn, indescribable-patterned carpet 
did not reach ; and over this painted portion chair-legs gave 
uncomfortable scroops. 

It was a depressing room, without a particle of ornament, 
and would have produced indigestion in the healthiest sub- 
ject. There was a circular side-board at one end, upon 
which stood a solemn-looking lamp, whose globe made a 
dismal boom like a funeral knell when it was removed. 
Twelve spindly-legged chairs covered with chintz of a 
washed-out material stood stiffly against the walls, and 


42 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


there were two uneasy chairs covered with chintz and very 
angular in their backs on either side of the fire, where hung 
a pair of old-fashioned brass bellows and a worn-out tele- 
scope toasting-fork. 

As the young ladies entered the room, looking as prim 
and demure as the chintz-covered chairs, a thin sharp cough 
was heard on the stairs, followed immediately by another 
thin sharp cough like the echo of the first, and two very 
tall meagre la-dies entered the room. 

Each was dressed in a pale washed-out fabric, with 
voluminous sleeves tight at the wrists, and had her gray 
hair in a large cluster of curls at the temple, the back hair 
being kept in place by a large tortoiseshell comb similar in 
shape to the leather withers protector carried on the collar 
by the horses in a brewer’s dray. 

There was a pinched, refined air about the aspect of their 
faces, as if they had led ascetic lives in an aristocratic 
shade ; and as they entered the room side by side, the 
young ladies approached them, and were received with an 
old-fashioned courtly grace such as was probably presumed 
to be correct within these palatial walls. 

“ Good-morning, aunt dear,” was said to each in turn by 
the young ladies, in return for which a little birdlike peck 
of a kiss was given to each soft round face, after which 
there was silence, each one waiting till there was a scuffle 
outside, and a little angry muttering, all of which was en- 
tirely ignored by the tall thin, pale ladies, who stood with 
their mitten-covered hands crossed in front of them, and 
their eyes cast down. 

Everything was so chilly, in spite of its being a warm 
spring morning, that the advent of a very old and battered 
but very hot bronze urn seemed quite to send a glow 
through the room as it was whisked in by the thin young 
man and placed upon the table, to hurry out and return 
directly with a crockery toast-rack, full of thin, dry husks 
of mortified half-burned bread. 

Meanwhile, Sister Philippa unlocked a tea-caddy, while 
Sister Isabella let some hot water run into the pot, and 
poured it out into the pale blue-and-white cups. 

Two caddy-spoonfuls were then placed in the pot, which 
was duly filled, and Sister Philippa said with grave aus- 
tereness : 

“ My dears, will you take your places ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


43 


Then m utter silence the three girls came to the table, 
and partook with their aunts of the very thin tea, sweetened 
with no liberal hand, while the bread and butter looked 
untempting and stale. 

This went on for some few minutes, every act in connec- 
tion with the breakfast being performed with scrupulous 
attention to etiquette, as taught in the highest old-fashioned 
circles. 

“ May I give you a little more tea, Clotilde ? ” “ Will 
you have the goodness to pass the bread and butter, 
Marie ? ” “ Ruth, I will trouble you, my dear, for the dry 
toast.” 

After awhile Sister Philippa started an enlivening con- 
versation on the number of drawing-rooms that were held 
by her late Majesty Queen Adelaide at which they were 
present as girls, Sister Isabella being of our opinion that 
the Court dresses of that period of history were much more 
modest, refined and graceful than those of to-day. 

Sister Philippa agreed to this, and with her agreement 
the breakfast came to an end. 

“ We will take our morning’s walk, my dears, at once, as 
it is fine,” said Sister Philippa. “ Will you go and 
dress ? ” 

“Yes, aunt,” was chorused, and the young ladies rose, 
curtsied, and retired backwards from the room, to ascend 
to their chamber, through which Ruth had to proceed to 
get into the cupboard which held her bed and a small chest 
of drawers. 

The moment they were inside the room, Clotilde rushed 
into the middle, gritting her teeth together and clenching 
her fists. 

“ Oh — h — h ! ” she exclaimed, with a cry of suppressed 
passion, “ I can’t bear it. I shall go mad.” 

Then with a bound she dashed to the bed, striking at it 
and seizing the pillow in her teeth. 

Marie got rid of her suppressed vitality by fiercely seiz- 
ing Ruth by the shoulders, shaking her angrily, and then, 
as if repenting, catching her about the waist, and waltzing 
her round the room. 

“ Oh, Clo ! it’s horrible,” she cried loosing Ruth to 
seize her sister. “ Get up, and let’s quarrel or fight, or do 
something. I can’t — I won’t — I shan’t — I will not bear it. 
It’s like being mummies in a tomb.” 


44 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Clotilde turned round, and let herself sink upon the floor 
with her head leaning back against the bed, biting the 
counterpane and twisting it viciously with her hands. 

“ Rue,” she said at last, and her eyes sparkled as she 
spoke, “ do you know what happened in the old days to 
the captive maidens in the stony castles ? ” 

“Yes ; the knights came and rescued them.” 

“Then, why don’t they come and rescue us? I’ll run 
away with the first man who asks me. I’d marry that thin 
wretch Joseph to-morrow if he’d have me, and I’d stick 
pins in him all the rest of his life to see him writhe.” 

“ I can’t bear it much longer,” said Marie, in a low, deep 
voice ; “ I’m nineteen, Clo, and you are turned twenty, 
and they treat us as if we were little children still. Ah, 
how I hate them both ! ” 

“ Oh, Marie,” said Ruth reproachfully, “ how can you 
say so ! ” 

“ Because I do — I do,” she cried. “ I’m not a soft 
smooth thing like you. If this lasts much longer I shall 
poison them, so as to be hung out of my misery.” 

“ I shan’t,” said Clotilde. “ I say I’ll marry the first 
man who asks me. I will marry him ; I’ll make him mar- 
ry me ; and then — ah,” she cried fiercely, as she started 
up, and began pacing up and down, beautiful as some 
caged leopard, “ once I am free, what I will do ! We 
might as well be nuns.” 

“ Better,” cried Marie angrily, “ for we should be real 
prisoners, and expect no better. Now we are supposed to 
be free.” 

“ And there’d be some nice fat old father confessors to 
tease. Better than the smooth-faced, saintly Paul Mon- 
taigne. Oh, how I would confess ! ” cried Clotilde. 

“ Old Paul’s a prig,” said Marie. 

“ He’s a humbug, I think,” said Clotilde. 

“ Bother your nice old fat father confessors,” cried 
Marie, with her eyes gleaming. “ I should like them to be 
young, and big, and strong, and handsome.” 

11 And with shaven crowns,” said Clotilde maliciously. 
“ How should you like them, Ruth ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Ruth simply. “ I have never 
thought of such a thing.” 

“ Take that, and that, you wicked story-teller ! ” cried 
Clotilde, slapping her arms ; “ I know you think more 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


45 


about men than either of us. For my part, the man I 
mean to have will ” 

She stopped, for Marie laid her hand upon her lips, and 
they both began to prepare themselves for their walk as 
the grave-looking woman entered the room. 

“ Oh, you’re not ready, then ? ” she said grimly. 

“ No, nurse ; but we shall be directly.” 

“ No, you needn’t; you’re not going.” 

“ Not going, nurse? Why ? ” 

The new Lancer regiment is coming to the barracks 
this morning, and your aunts say some of the officers may 
be about.” 


CHAPTER II. 

HIS uncle’s nephew. 

“Why didn’t I come? Why should I? Very kind of 
Lady Millet to ask me, but I’m not a society man.” 

“ Oh, but ” 

“ Yes, I know, lad. Did the affair go off well? ” 

“ Splendidly, only mamma left the wine to the confec- 
tioner, and the champagne ” 

“ Gave you a horrible headache, eh? Serve you right ; 
should have had toast and water.” 

“ Marcus ! ” 

“ So Malpas came, did he ? ” 

“ Yes. Bad form, too. I don’t like him, Glen. But 
that’s all over now. Fellow can’t always marry the woman 
he wants.” 

“ Can’t he ? ” 

“ No, of course not. I wish you had come though.” 

“ Thank you ! But you speak in riddles, my little Sam- 
son. What’s all over now, and what fellow can’t always 
marry the woman he wants ? Speak out, small sage ! ” 

“ I say, Glen, I didn’t make myself.” 

“ True, O king 1 ” 

“ ’Tisn’t my fault I’m small.” 

“ True.” 

“ You do chaff me so about my size.” 

“ For the last time : now proceed, and don’t lisp and 
drawl. Who’s who? as Bailey says.” 


46 


A DOUBLE KNOT 


“ I thought I told you before about my sisters t f * 

“ Often : that you have two pretty sisters — one married 
and one free.” 

“ Well, my married sister, Mrs. Morrison, used, I think, 
to care for Major Malpas.” 

Sorry she had such bad taste.” 

This in an undertone. 

“ Eh ? ” 

“ Go on.” 

“ Well, it didn’t go on or come off, as you call it.” 

“ As you call it, Dicky.” 

“ I say, don’t talk to me as if I were a bird.” 

“ All right. Now then, let me finish for you ; mamma 
married the young lady to someone else, and there is just 
a fag-end of the old penchant left.” 

“ Oh, hang it, no ! ” 

“ I beg pardon ! — the young lady’s, too. But, my dear 
Dick, I am one of the most even-tempered of men ; but if 
you keep up that miserable fashionable drawl and lisp, I 
shall take hold of you and shake you.” 

“ But, my dear fellow — weally, Mawcus.” 

“ Am I to do it ? Say ( Marcus ’ out plain.” 

“ Mawcus.” 

“ No ! Marcus.” 

Marcus.” 

“ That’s better. There, hang it all, Dick, you are a sol- 
dier ; for heaven's sake be one. Try to be manly, old 
fellow, and pitch over those silly affectations.” 

“ It’s all very well for you,” said Dick Millet, in an ill- 
used tone. “ You are naturally manly. Why you are five 
feet ten at least, and broad shouldered and strong.” 

“ While you are only about five feet two, and slight, and 
have a face as smooth as a girl’s.” 

“ Five feet three and a half,” said the other quickly. 

“ How do you know ! ” 

“ I made the sergeant put me under the standard this 
morning. I can’t help it if I haven’t got a heavy brown 
moustache like you ! ” 

“ Who said you could help it, stupid ! Why, what a 
little gander you are, Dick. I’m eight-and-twenty and you 
are eighteen.” 

“ Nineteen ! ” 

“ Well nineteen, then. There, there, you are only a boy 
yet, so why not be content to be a boy ? You’ll grow old 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


47 


quite fast enough, my dear lad. Do you know why I like 
you ? ” 

“ Well, not exactly. But you do like me, don’t you, 
Glen ? ” 

“Like you? Yes, when you are what I see before me 
now, boyish and natural. When you put on those con- 
founded would-be manly airs, and grow affected and min- 
cing as some confounded Burlington Arcade dandy, I think 
to myself, What a contemptible little puppy it is ! ” 

“ I say, you know ” cried the lad, and he tried to 

look offended. 

“ Say away, stupid ! Well ? ” 

Captain Marcus Glen, of Her Majesty’s 50th Lancers, a 
detatchment of which, from the headquarters at Hounslow, 
were stationed at Hampton Court, sank back in his chair, 
let fall the newspaper he had been reading, and took out 
and proceeded to light a cigar, while Richard Millet flushed 
up angrily, got off the edge of the table where he had been 
sitting and swinging a neat patent-leather boot adorned 
with a spur, and seemed for a moment as if he were about 
to leave the room in a pet. 

Marcus Glen saw this and smiled. 

“ Have a cigar, Dick ? ” he said. 

The lad frowned, and it was on his lips to say, “ Thanks, 
I have plenty of my own,” but his eyes met those of the 
speaker looking kindly and half laughingly in his, and the 
feeling of reverence for the other’s manly attributes, as well 
as his vanity at being the chosen friend of one he consid- 
ered to be the finest fellow in the regiment, made him pause, 
hesitate, and then hold out his hand for the cigar. 

“ Better not take it, Dick. Tobacco stops the growth.” 

The boy paused with the cigar in his hand, and the 
other burst into a merry laugh, rose lazily, lit a match, and 
handed it to the young officer, clapping him directly after 
upon the shoulder. 

“Look here, Dick,” he said; “shall I give you the 
genuine receipt how to grow into a strong honest English- 
man ? ” 

“ Yes,” cried the lad eagerly, the officer and the would- 
be man dropped, for the school-boy to reassert itself in 
full force. “ I wish you would, Glen, ’pon my soul I 
do.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT , . 


“ Forget yourself then, entirely, and don’t set number one 
up for an idol, at whose shrine you are always ready to 
worship.” 

a I don’t quite understand you,” said the lad, reddening 
ingenuously. 

“ Oh yes, you do, Dick, or you would not have been 
measured this morning, and made that little nick with the 
razor on your cheek in shaving off nothing but soap. If 
you did not worship your confounded small self, you would 
not have squeezed your feet into those wretched little 
boots, nor have waxed those twenty-four hairs upon your 
upper lip ; and ’pon my word, Dick, that really is a work 
of supererogation, for the world at large, that is to say our 
little world at large, is perfectly ignorant of their existence.” 

“ Oh, I say, you are hard on a man, Glen ! ’Pon my 
soul, you are ; ” and the handsome little fellow looked, with 
his flushed cheeks and white skin, more girlish than ever. 

“ Hard ? Nonsense ! I don’t want to see you grow 
into a puppy. I must give you a lesson now and then, or 
you’ll be spoiled ; and then how am I to face Lady Millet 
after promising what I did ? ” 

“ Oh, I had a letter from mamma this morning,” said 
the lad ; “ she sent her kindest regards to you.” 

“ Thank her for them,” said the young officer. “ Well, 
so the party went off all right, Dick ? ” 

“ Splendid ! You ought to have been there. Gertrude 
would have been delighted to see you.” 

“ Humph ! Out of place, my boy. Lady Millet wants 
a rich husband for your sister. I’m the wrong color.” 

“ Not you. I don’t want Gerty to have someone she 
does not like.” 

“ But I thought you said that there was a Mr. Huish, or 
some such name ? ” 

“ Well, yes, there is ; but it may not come off. Mamma 
hates the Huishes.” 

“ You’re a character, Dick ! ” said the officer laughingly. 
“ There, I’m going to make you dissipated to get you 
square, so light your cigar, my lad ; I won’t bully you any 
more,” he continued, smiling good-humoredly, “ and you 
may shave till your beard comes if you like, and wax your 
— your eyebrows — I mean moustache, and dandify your- 
self a little, for I like to see you smart ; but an’ you love me, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


49 


as the poet says, no more of that confounded lisp. Now 
then, you’ve been reconnoitring, have you, and spying out 
the barrenness of the land?” 

“Yes, and it’s a horrible one-eyed sort of a place. 
Why, don’t you come and have a look ? ” 

“ I shall presently. Seen the Palace ? ” 

“ I had a walk round and went into the gardens, which 
are all very well — old-fashioned, you know ; but the private 
apartments are full of old maids.” 

“ Ah, yes ; maiden ladies and widows. Sort of aristo- 
cratic union, I’ve heard. Good thing for you, Dick.” 

“ Why ? ” said the lad, who had again perched himself 
on the edge of the table and was complacently glancing at 
his boots. 

“ Because your inflammable young heart will not be set 
on fire by antique virgins and blushing widows of sixty.” 

“ I don’t know so much about that,” cried the lad 
excitedly, taking off his natty little foraging cap. “ Mar- 
cus, dear boy, I was walking round a cloister sort of place 
with a fountain in the middle, and then through a blank 
square court, and I saw three of the loveliest women, at 
one of the windows, I ever saw in my life.” 

“ Distance lends enchantment to the view, my dear boy. 
If you had gone closer you would have seen the wrinkles 
and the silvery hairs, if they had not been dyed.” 

“ I tell you they weren’t old,” continued Dick, whose 
eyes sparkled like those of a girl. 

“ I’m not a marrying man, for reasons best known to 
my banker and my creditors.” 

“ Two of them were dark and the other was fair,” con- 
tinued the lad, revelling in his description. “ Oh, those 
two dark girls ! You never saw such eyes, such hair, such 
lovely complexions. Juno-like — that they were. I was 
quite struck.” 

“ Foolish ? ” 

“ No, no; the Lelys in one of the rooms are nothing to 
them.” 

“ Lilies ? ” 

“Nonsense — Lelys: the pictures, Court beauties. I 
could only stand and gaze at them.” 

“ Young buck — at gaze,” said the other, smiling at the- 
boy’s enthusiasm. “ What was the fair one like ? ” 


4 


5 ° 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Oh, sweet and Madonnaesque — pensive and gentle. 
Look here, Marcus, you and I will have a walk round there 
presently.” 

“ Not if my name’s Marcus,” said the other, laughing. 
“ Go along, you silly young butterfly, scenting honey in 
every flower. I say, Dick, shall you go in full review 
order ? ” 

“ I wish you weren’t so fond of chaffing a fellow.” 

“ Did the maidens — old or young, or doubtful — at the 
window see our handsome young Adonis with his clustering 
curls ? ” 

“ Hang me if I ever tell you anything again ! ” cried the 
lad pettishly. “ Where do you keep your matches? You 
are always chaffing.” 

“ Not I,” said the other, turning himself lazily in his 
chair, “ only I want to see you grow into a matter-of-fact 
man.” 

“ Is it a sign of manhood to grow into a Diogenes sort 
of fellow, who sneers at every woman he sees ? ” said the 
lad hotly. 

“ No, Dick, but it’s a sign of hobbledehoyishness to be 
falling in love with pretty housemaids and boarding school 
girls.” 

“ Which I don’t do,” said the lad fiercely. 

“ Except when you are forming desperate attachments 
to well-developed ladies, who, after your stupid young 
heart has been pretty well frizzled in the imaginary fire 
cast by their eyes, turn out to be other men’s wives.” 

“ I declare you are unbearable, Glen,” cried the lad 
hotly. 

“ My dear Dick, you are the most refreshing little chap 
I ever knew,” said the other, rising. “ There, put on 
your cap, my boy, and let’s go ; ” and leaving the direction 
of their course to his younger companion, Captain Glen 
found himself at last on the broad walk facing the old red- 
brick Palace. 

“ I wonder you have never seen it before.” 

“ So do I ; but I never did. Well, old Dutch William 
had a very good idea of taking care of himself, that’s all I 
can say.” 

“ But come along here ; some of the interior is very 
curious, especially the quadrangles.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


5 1 


“ So I should suppose,” said Glen drily. “ But I have 
at fancy for examining some of these quaint old parterres 
and carven trees, so we’ll turn down here.” 

Richard Millet’s countenance twitched, but he said 
nothing ; and together they strolled about the grounds, 
the elder pointing out the pretty effects to be seen here 
and there, the younger seeing nothing but the faces of 
three ladies standing at a window, and longing to be back 
in that cloister-like square to gaze upon them again. 

“ This place will be dull,” said Glen, as he seated him- 
self upon a bench at the edge of a long spread of velvet 
turf ; “ but better than dingy Hounslow, and I’ve come to 
the conclusion that we might be much worse off. The 
society may turn out pretty decent, after all. This old 
garden will be splendid for a stroll And — look there, 
Dick, the inhabitant of the land is fair. Here is another 
chance for you to fall in love.” 

“ What, with one of those old Oh, I say, look, look ! 

I did not see them at first. Those are the very girls.” 

For Richard Millet’s face had been turned in the other 
direction, and when he first spoke he had only caught sight 
of the Honorable Misses Dymcox, walking side by side for 
their morning walk, closely followed by their three nieces, to 
make up for a close confinement to the house of three days, 
consequent upon the coming of the fresh troops to the 
barracks ; the military being a necessary evil in the eyes 
of these elderly ladies, and such dreadful people that they 
were to be avoided upon all occasions.” 

“ Oh, those are the damsels, are they ? ” said Glen, 
watching the little party as they walked straight on along 
a broad gravel path. “ The old ladies look as if they were 
marching a squad of an Amazonian brigade to relieve guard 
somewhere. My word : how formal and precise ! Now, 
I’ll be bound to say, my lad, that you would like to see 
where they are posted, and go and commit a breach of dis- 
cipline by talking to the pretty sentries.” 

“ I should,” cried Dick eagerly. “ Did you notice 
them ? ” 

“ Well, I must own that they are nice looking, young, 
inflammable, certainly.” 

“ But that first one, with the dark hair and eyes — she 
just glanced towards me — isn’t she lovely ? ” 

“ Well, now, that’s odd,” said Glen, smiling. “ I sup- 
pose it was my conceit : do you know, I fancied that she 


5 2 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


glanced at me. At all events, I seemed to catch her eye.” 

“ Ah, it might seem so, but of course she recognized me 
again ! Let’s walk gently after them.” 

“ What for ? ” 

“ To — er — well, to see which way they go.’ 

“ I don’t want to know which way they go, my dear lad, 
and if I did, why, we can see very well from where we are. 
There they go, along that path to the right ; you can see 
their dresses among the trees ; and now they have turned 
off to the left. Would you like to stand upon the seat? ” 

“ Oh, how cold and impassive you are ! I feel as if I 
must see which way they go, and then we might take a 
short cut over the grass, and meet them again.” 

“ When those two fierce-looking old gorgons would see 
that you were following them up, and they would fire such 
a round from their watchful eyes that you, my dear boy, 
would retire in discomfiture, and looking uncommonly 
foolish. I remember once, when I was somewhere about 
your age, I had a very severe encounter with a chaperone 
in a cashmere shawl.” 

“ Oh, do get up, Glen, there’s a good fellow, and let’s 
go.” 

“ I had fallen in love with a young lady. I fancy now 
that she wore drawers with frills at the bottom, and that 
her dresses were short — frocks, I believe.” 

“There they are again,” cried the boy, jumping up; 
“look, they are going down that path.” 

“ I think the young lady was still in the schoolroom, but 
though undeveloped, and given to slipping her shoulders 
out of the bands of her frock, she was very pretty — bony, 
but pretty — and I was desperately in love.” 

“ How wonderfully they are alike in height ! ’ 

“ I believe,” continued the captain, in a slow, ponderous 
way, though all the while he seemed to be thoroughly en- 
joying his companion’s eagerness, “ that if I had made 
love-offerings to my fair young friend — I never knew her 
name, Dick, and unkindly fate parted us — they would have 
taken the form of sweet cakes or acidulated drops, and 
been much appreciated ; but alas ! ” 

“ Oh, hang it all, I can’t stand this ! There goes Mal- 
pas. He has seen them, and is making chase. Glen, I 
shall shoot that fellow, or run him through.” 

“ What for, my boy ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


53 

“ Because he is always sitting upon me, and making fun 
of me at the mess. Hang him ! I hate him ! ” 

“ Don’t take any notice of his banter,” said Glen seri- 
ously, “ and if he is very unpleasant, it is more dignified 
to suffer than to fall out. Between ourselves, and in con- 
fidence, I advise you not to quarrel with Major Malpas. 
He can be very disagreeable when he likes.” 

“ As if I didn’t know ! He was always hanging after 
our Renee — Mrs. Frank Morrison. I mean.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ Before she was married, of course.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ And used to treat me like a school-boy. I hadn’t 
joined then, you know.” 

“ No, no, of course not,” said the captain with a pecu- 
liar smile. 

“ But look at him. You can see his black moustache 
and hooked nose here. He’s going straight for them. Look, 
don’t you see ? ” 

“ Well, yes, he does seem to be doing as you say. If he 
is, you may just thank your stars.” 

“ Thank my stars ? What for ? ” 

“ For his getting the snub that you would have received 
had you been so foolish as to go after those ladies — for 
they are ladies, Dick.” 

“ Yes, of course, but it is horrible to be bested like this. 
Will you come ? ” 

“ No ; and I won’t let you go. Sit still, you little stupid, 
and — there, see how propitious the fates are to you ! ” he 
continued, as he saw something unnoticed by his little 
companion. 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, the enemy.” 

“ The enemy ? ” 

“ Well, the Amazonian brigade have seen the demon- 
stration being made by the major on their left flank, the 
officer in command has given the order, and they have 
countermarched and are returning by troops from the left.” 

“ But are they coming back this way ? ” 

“ To be sure they are, and if you sit still you will be able 
to enfilade them as they retreat.” 

“ Oh, please don’t — pray don’t, Glen, there’s a good fel- 
low 1 ” 


54 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ My dear boy, don’t what ? ” 

“ Don’t light another cigar. Elderly ladies hate smok- 
ing, and you’ll send them off in another direction. Be- 
sides, it’s forbidden.” 

“ Oh, very well, most inflammable of youths. I shall 
have to make this the subject of a despatch to mamma.’’ 

“ Hush ! be quiet. Don’t seem to notice them, or they 
may turn off another way. I say, old Malpas is done.” 

“ And you are able to deliver a charge without change 
of position.” 

It might have been from design, or it might have been 
pure accident, for ladies’ pockets always do seem made to 
hold their contents unsafely. Certain it was, however, 
that as the Honorable Misses Dymcox marched stiffly by, 
closely folllowed by their nieces, all looking straight before 
them, and as if they were not enjoying their walk in the 
slightest degree, there was a glint of someting white, and 
Clotilde’s little white and not particularly fine handkerchief 
fell to the ground. 

Glen saw it and did not move. 

Richard Millet did not see it for the moment, but as soon 
as it caught his eye he impulsively dashed from his seat, 
picked it up, and ran a few steps after the little party. 

“ Excuse me,” he exclaimed. 

“ Oh, thank you,” said Clotilde ; and she stretched out 
her hand to take the handkerchief, but in a quick, unob- 
trusive way Miss Isabella interposed her. thin stiff form, 
received the handkerchief from the young officer with a 
formal obeisance, and before he could recover from the 
paralyzing chill of her severe look, the party had passed 
on. 

“ But I had a good look at her,” he cried excitedly, as 
he rejoined his companion. 

“ And that severe lady had a good look at you, Dick. 
What a cold, steely glance it was ! ” 

“ But did you see her eyes, Glen — dark as night ! ” he 
cried rapturously. “ Did you see the glance she gave 
me ? ” 

“ No,” said the young officer bluntly, “ seemed to me as 
if she wanted her glasses ; ” and then to himself, “ She is 
handsome, and if it were not conceited, I should say she 
was looking at me.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


55 


CHAPTER III. 

CAPTAIN MILLET'S BROTHER’S WIFE. 

Plump, blonde Lady Millet uttered an ejaculation and 
made a gesture of annoyance as she settled herself in a 
luxurious lounge. 

“ Now, do, for goodness’ sake, wipe your eyes, Gertrude, 
and be sensible if you can ! I declare it’s enough to worry 
one to death. Once for all, I tell you I do not like these 
Huisnes, and what your father could have been about to 
listen to your Uncle Robert and bring that young man here 
I can’t think.” 

Gertrude Millet forced back her tears, and bent lower 
over some work upon which she was engaged in the draw- 
ing-room of her father’s house in Grosvenor Square. 

“ They are very plebeian sort of people, and they have 
no money ; but because his father was an old friend of 
your Uncle Robert’s when he was a young man, this Mr. 
John Huish must be invited here, and you, you silly child ! 
must let him make eyes at you.” 

“ Really, mamma ” 

u Now do let me speak, Gertrude,” said Lady Millet 
severely. “ It is as I say, and I will not have it. Senti- 
mentality does very well for low-class people, but we have 
a position to maintain, and I have other views for you.” 

“ But, mamma, you never thought Frank Morrison ple- 
beian,” said Gertrude, raising her bright gray eyes to bring 
them to bear on her dignified mother, who was arranging 
the lace about her plump white throat. 

“ My dear child, comparisons are odious, and at your 
age you should allow people to think for you. Does it 
ever occur to you that your mother’s sole wish — the object 
for which she almost entirely lives — is to see her child 
happily settled in life. No, no; don’t speak, please : yoii 
hurt me. I consented to your sister Rente’s union with 
Frank for many reasons. Certainly his family is plebeian, 
but he is a young man whom I am rejoiced to see deter- 


56 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


mined to make use of his wealth to his own elevation — to 
marry well, and be the founder of a new family of gentry.” 

“But I’m sure Renee is not happy, mamma.” 

“ Then, in her position, it is her own fault, my dear, of 
course. I had been married years before I had a second 
carriage. Once for all, there is no comparison between 
Frank and this Mr. Huish. If it had not been out of 
commiseration for your Uncle Robert — it being his wish— 
Mr. Huish would not have been received here at all.” 

Gertrude bit her nether lip, and bent lower over her 
work as sweet and lovable a face as girl of twenty could 
have. 

“ Your uncle is a most unhappy man ; and if he were 
not so rich people would call him insane, living such an 
absurd life as 'he does. I often feel as if I must go and 
rouse him up, and force him to act like a Christian. By 
the way, you have not been to see him lately ? ” 

“No, mamma.” 

“ Call, then, soon. He must not be neglected. We 
have our duties to do, and that is one of them. He is 
always kind to you ? ” 

“ Always, mamma.” 

“That is right. You must humor him, for he seems to 
have taken a most unnatural dislike to Richard.” 

“ Yes, mamma.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” said Lady Millet sharply. 

“ He forbade Dick to call again after he had importuried 
him for money.” 

“ Foolish, reckless boy ! That’s the way young people 
always seem to me determined to wreck their prospects. 
Your Uncle Robert has no one else to leave his money to 
but you children, and yet you persist in running counter 
to his wishes.” 

“ I, mamma ? ” 

“ All of you. Do you suppose because he desired your 
father to take a little more notice of this John Huish that 
you were to throw yourself at his head ? ” 

Gertrude squeezed her eyelids very tightly together, and 
took three or four stitches in the dark. 

“ I have always found Uncle Robert particularly kind to 
me.” 

“ And so he would be to Renee and to Richard if they 
were not so foolish. I declare I don’t know what that 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


57 


boy can possibly do with his money. But, there, I suppose 
being in a regiment is expensive.” 

“ Do you like Major Malpas, mamma ? ” said Gertrude 
suddenly. 

“ Certainly not ! ” said Lady Millet tartly ; “ and really, 
Gertrude, you are a most extraordinary girl ! John Huish 
one moment, Major Malpas the next. Huish was bad 
enough ; now don’t, for goodness’ sake, go throwing your- 
self at Major Malpas.” 

“ Mamma ! ” 

“ Will you let me speak, child ? ” cried Lady Millet an- 
grily. “ I don’t know what you girls are thinking about 1 
Why, you are as bad as Renee ! If I had not been firm, 
she would have certainly accepted him, and he is a man of 
most expensive habits. It was most absurd of Renee. 
But there : that’s over. But I do rather wonder at Frank 
making so much of a friend of him. Oh dear me, no, Ger- 
trude ! that would be impossible ! ” 

“ Of course, mamma ! ” 

“ Then why did you talk in that tone ? ” 

“ Because I don’t like Major Malpas, and I am sure 
Renee does not, either.” 

“ Of course she does not. She is a married lady. 
Surely she can be civil to people without always thinking 
of liking. It was a curious chance that Richard should be 
gazetted into the same regiment ; and under the circum- 
stances I have been bound to invite him and that other 
officer, Captain Glen, here, for they can help your brother, 
no doubt, a great deal. You see, I have to think of every- 
thing, for your poor father only thinks now of his dinners 
and his clubs.” 

Gertrude sighed and went on with her work, while Lady 
Millet yawned, got up, looked out of the window, and came 
back. 

“ Quite time the carriage was round. Then I am to go 
alone ? ” 

“ I promised Renee to be in this morning,” said Gertrude 
quietly. 

“ Ah, well ; then I suppose you must stop. I wonder 
whether Lady Littletown will take any notice of Richard 
now he is at Hampton Court ? ” 

“ I should think she would, mamma. She is always most 
friendly.” 


5 » 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Friendly, but not trustworthy, my dear. A terribly 
scheming woman, Gertrude. Her sole idea seems to be 
match-making. But, there, Richard is too young to be- 
come her prey ! ” 

Gertrude’s brow wrinkled, and she looked wonderingly 
at her mother, whose face was averted. 

“ I have been looking up the Glens. Not a bad family, 
but a younger branch. I suppose Richard will accompany 
his brother officer here one of these days. By the way, 
my dear, Lord Henry Moorpark seemed rather attentive 
to you at the Lindleys the other night.” 

“ Yes, mamma,” said Gertrude quietly ; “ he took me 
into supper, and sat and chatted with me a long time.” 

“ Yes ; I noticed that he did.” 

“ I like Lord Henry, mamma ; he is so kind and gentle 
and courteous.” 
i( Very, my dear.” 

“ One always feels as if one could confide in him — he is 

so fatherly, and ” 

“ My dear Gertrude ! ” 

“ What have I said, mamma ! ” 

“ Something absurd. Fatherly ! What nonsense ! Lord 
Henry is in the prime of life, and you must not talk like 
that. You girls are so foolish ! You think of no one but 
boys with pink and white faces and nothing to say for them- 
selves. Lord Henry Moorpark is a most distingut gentle 
— I mean a nobleman ; and judging from the attentions he 

began to pay you the other night, I ” 

“ Oh, mamma ! surely you cannot think that? ” 

“ And pray why not, Gertrude ? ” said Lady Millet aus- 
terely. “ Why should not I think that ? Do you suppose 
I wish to see my youngest daughter marry some penniless 
boy ? Do, pray, for goodness’ sake, throw away all that 
bread-and-butter, school-girl, sentimental nonsense. It is 
quite on the cards that Lord Henry Moorpark may propose 
for you.” 

“ Oh dear,” thought Gertrude ; “ and I was talking to 
him so warmly about John Huish ! ” 

Gertrude’s red lips parted, showing her white teeth, and 
the peachy pink faded out of her cheeks as she sat there 
with her face contracting, and a cloud seemed to come 
over her young life, in whose shado^she saw herself and 
her future, as joyless as that of the sister who had been 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


59 


married about a year earlier to a wealthy young north 
Yorkshire manufacturer, who was now neglecting her and 
making her look old before her time. 

“ There, it must be nearly three,” said Lady Millet, rising ; 
“ I’ll go and put on my things. I shall not come in again, 
Gertrude. Give my love to Ren6e, and if Lord Henry 
Moorpark does come — but, there, I have perfect faith in 
your behaving like a sensible girl. 'By the way, Richard 
may run up. If he does, try and keep him to dinner. I 
don’t half like his being at that wretched Hampton Court ; 
it is so terribly suggestive of holiday people and those 
dreadful vans.” 

With these words Lady Millet sailed out of the room, 
thinking to herself that a better managing mother never 
lived, and a quarter of an hour after she entered her 
carriage to go and distribute cards at the houses of her 
dearest friends. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE REMAINS OF A FALL. 

Gertrude Millet’s anxious look grew deeper as she sat 
with her work in her lap, thinking of John Huish and cer- 
tain tender passages which had somehow passed between 
them ; then of Lord Henry Moorpark, the pleasant, elderly 
nobleman whose attentions had been so pleasant and so 
innocently received; and as she thought of him a burning 
blush suffused her cheeks, and she tried to recall the words 
he had last spoken to her. 

The consequence was a fit of low spirits, which did not 
become high when later on Mrs. Frank Morrison called, 
dismissed her carriage, and sat chatting for some time with 
her sister, Lady Millet, she said, being in the park. 

“ You need not tell me I look well,” said Gertrude, 
pouting slightly. “ I declare you look miserable.” 

“ Oh no, dear, only a little low-spirited to-day. Have 
you called on Uncle Robert lately ? ” 

“ Without you ? No.” 

“ Then let’s go.” m 


6o 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Gertrude jumped at the suggestion, and half an hour 
later the sisters were making their way along Wimpole 
Street the gloomy, to stop at last before the most wan- 
looking of all the dreary houses in that most dreary street. 

It was a house before which no organ-man ever stopped 
to play, no street vendor to shout his wares, nor passer-by 
to examine from top to bottom ) the yellow shutters were 
closed, and the appearance of the place said distinctly “ out 
of town.” The windows were very dirty, but that is rather 
a fashion in Wimpole Street, where the windows get very 
dirty in a month, very much dirtier in two months, and as 
dirty as possible in three. They, of course, never get any 
worse, for when once they have arrived at this pitch they 
may go for years, the weather rather improving them, what 
with the rain’s washing and the sun’s bleaching. 

The paint of the front door was the worst part about 
that house, for the sun had raised it in little blisters, 
which street boys could not bear to see without cracking 
and picking off in flakes ; and the consequence was that 
the door looked as if it had had a bad attack of some skin 
disease, and a new cuticle of a paler hue was growing be- 
neath the old. 

Wimpole Street was then famous for the knockers upon 
its doors. They were large and resounding. In fact a 
clever manipulator could raise a noise that would go rolling 
on a still night from nearly one end of the street to the 
other. For, in their wisdom, our ancestors seized the idea 
of a knocker on that sounding-board, a front door, as a 
means to warn servants downstairs that someone was 
waiting, by a deafening noise that appealed to those in 
quite a different part of the place. But this was not allowed 
at the house with the blistered front door, for a great staple 
had been placed over one side for years, and when you had 
passed the two great iron extinguishers that were never 
used for links, and under the fantastic ironwork that had 
never held a lamp since the street had been lit with gas, 
and, ascending three steps, stood at the door, you could 
only contrive quite a diminutive kind of knock, such as was 
given upon that occasion by Renee, for Gertrude was car- 
rying a large bouquet of flowers. 

The knock was hard enough to bring a little bleached, 
•sparrow-like man, dressed in black, to the door, and his 
colorless face, made more pallid by a little black silk cap 
he wore, brightened as he held his head first on one side, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


6 1 


then on the other, his triangular nose adding to his sparrow- 
like appearance, and giving a stranger the idea that he 
would never kiss anyone, but would peck. 

“ How is my uncle this morning, Vidler ! ” said Gertrude. 

“ Capital, miss,” said the little man, holding wide the 
door for the ladies to enter, and closing it quickly lest, 
apparently, too much light should enter at the same time. 

For the place was very gloomy and subdued within. 
The great leather porter’s chair, the umbrella-stand, and 
the pictures all looked sombre and black. Even the two 
classical figures holding lamps, that had not been lighted 
for a quarter of a century at least, were swarthy, and a 
stranger would have gone stumbling and feeling his way 
along ; but not so Vidler, Captain Robert Millet’s handy 
servant. He was as much at home in the gloom as an owl, 
and in a quick, hurried way that was almost spasmodic he 
led the visitors upstairs, but only to stop on the first land- 
ing. 

“ If I might make so bold, Miss Gertrude,” he said, 
holding his head on one side. “ I don’t often see a flower 
now.” 

The girl held up the bouquet, and the little man had a 
long sniff with a noise, as if taking a pinch of snuff, said 
“ Thank you, miss,” and went on up to the back drawing- 
room door, which was a little lighter than the staircase, for 
the top of the shutters of one of the three tall narrow win- 
dows was open. 

A glance round the room showed that it was scrupulous- 
ly clean. Time had blackened the paint and ceiling, but 
every thing that could be cleaned or polished was in the 
highest state of perfection. 

For Valentine Vidler and his wife Salome, being very 
religious and conscientious people, told themselves and 
one another nearly every day that as the master never 
supervised anything it was the more their duty to keep the 
place in the best of order. For instance, Vidler would 
say : 

“ I don’t think I shall clean all that plate over this week, 
Salome. It's as bright as it can be.” 

When to him Salome : “ Valentine, there’s One above 
who knows all, and though your master may not know that 
you have not cleaned the plate, He will.” 

“That’s very true, Salome,” the little man would say 
with a sigh, and then set to work in a green baize apron, 


62 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


and was soon be-rouged up to the eyes as he polished 
away. 

Another day, perhaps, it would be Salome’s turn ; for 
the temptation, as she called it, would attack her. The 
weather would be hot, perhaps, and a certain languid feel- 
ing, the result of a want of change, would come over her. 

“ Valentine,” she would say, perhaps, “ I think the big 
looking-glass in the drawing-room will do this week ; it’s 
as clean as clean.” 

“ Hah ! ” would say Valentine, with a sigh, “ Satan has 
got tight hold of you again, my dear little woman. It is 
your weakness that you ought to resist. Do you think the 
Lord cannot see those three fly-specks at the bottom 
corner? Resist the temptation, woman ; resist it.” 

Then little Salome, who was a tiny plump downy woman 
who somehow reminded people of a thick potato-shoot 
that had grown in the dark, would sigh, put on an apron 
that covered her all over except her face, climb on a pair of 
steps, and polish the great mirror till it was as clear as 
hands could make it. 

She was a pleasant-faced little body, and very neatly 
dressed. There was a little fair sausage made up of rolled- 
up hair on each side of her face, two very shiny smooth 
surfaces of hair over her forehead, and a neat little white 
line up the centre, the whole being surmounted by one 
of those quaint high-crowned caps which project over to 
the front. In fact, there was, in spite of the potato-shoot 
allusion, a good deal of resemblance in little Mrs. Vidler 
to a plump charity child, especially as she wore an apron 
with a bib, a white muslin kerchief crossed over her bosom, 
and a pair of muslin sleeves up to her elbows. 

The little woman was in the drawing-room armed with a 
duster as Valentine showed up the young ladies, and she 
faced round and made two little bobs, quite in the charity- 
school-child fashion, as taught by those who so carefully 
make it the first duty of such children to obey their pastors 
and masters, and order themselves lowly and reverently, 
and make bobs and bows to — all their betters. 

“ Why, my dears, I am glad you’ve come,” she 
exclaimed. “ Miss Renee — there, I beg your pardon — 
Mrs. Morrison, what an age it is since I saw you ! And 
only to think, you are a married lady now, when only the 
other day you two were little things, and I used to bring 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 63 

you one in each hand, looking quite frightened, into this 
room. 

“ Ah yes, Salome, times are changed,” said Ren£e sadly. 
“ How is uncle ? ” 

“ Very well, my dear,” said the little woman, holding her 
head on one side to listen in the same bird-like way 
adopted by her husband. “ He’s not in his room yet. 
But what beautiful flowers ! ” 

She, too, inhaled the scent precisely in her husband’s 
fashion, before fetching a china bowl from a cheflonier, 
and carefully wiping it inside and out, though it was 
already the perfection of cleanliness. 

“ A jug of clean water, if you please, Vidler,” she said 
softly. 

“ Yes, my dear,” said the little man, smiling at the sisters, 
and giving his hands a rub together, before obeying his 
wife. 

“ I was so sorry, Miss Renee — there, I must call you so, 
my dear ; it’s so natural — I was so sorry that I did not see 
you when you came. Only to think of my being out a 
whole month nursing my poor sister ! I hadn’t been away 
from the place before for twenty years, and poor Vidler 
was so upset without me. And I don’t think,” she added, 
nodding, “ that master liked it.” 

“ I’m sure he would not,” said Gertrude ; and then, the 
little man coming in very quietly and closing the door 
after him, water was poured in the china bowl, the flowers 
duly deposited therein and placed upon a small mahogany 
bracket, in front of a panel in the centre of the room. 

u There, my dears, I’ll go now. I daresay he will not 
be long.” 

The little woman smiled at the sisters, and the little man 
nodded at them in a satisfied way as if he thought them 
very pleasant to look upon. Then, taking his wife’s hand, 
they toddled together out of the room. 

A quaint subdued old room — clean, and yet comfortless. 
Upon a wet day, when a London fog hung over the streets 
and filled the back yards, no female could have sat in it 
for an hour without moistening her handkerchief with tears. 
For it was, in its dim twilight, like a, drawing-room of the 
past, full of sad old memories of the dead and gone, who 
haunted it and clung to its furniture and chairs. It was 
impossible to sit there long without peopling the seats with 


6 4 


A DOUBLE KNOT , . 


those who once occupied them — without seeing soft, sad 
faces reflected in the mirrors, or hearing fancied footsteps 
on the faded carpet. 

And it was so now, as the sisters sat thinking in silence, 
Renee with her head resting upon her hand, Gertrude with 
her eyes closed, half dreaming of what must have been. 

For Gertrude’s thoughts ran back to a miniature in her 
father’s desk of a handsome, sun-browned young man in 
uniform, bright-eyed, keen, and animated ; and she thought 
of what she had heard of his history : how he had loved 
some fair young girl before his regiment was ordered away 
to Canada. How he had come back to find that she had 
become another’s, and then that some terrible struggle had 
occurred between him and his rival, and the young officer 
had been maimed for life — turned in one minute from the 
strong, vigorous man to a misanthrope, who dragged him- 
self about with difficulty, half paralyzed in his lower limbs, 
but bruised more painfully in his heart. For broken in 
spirit as in body, he had shut himself up, after his long 
illness, never seeing a soul since, never going out of the 
closely shuttered rooms that he had chosen for himself in 
his lonely faded house. 

Vidler had been a drummer in his regiment, she had 
heard, and he had devoted himself to the master who had 
fetched him in when lying wounded under fire; and in due 
time Vidler had married and brought his little wife to the 
house, the couple never leaving it except on some emer- 
gency, but growing to like the darkness in which they 
dwelt, and sternly doing their duty by him they served. 

“Poor uncle !” sighed Gertrude, as she thought of his 
desolate life, and her own sad position. “ I wonder who 
it was he loved.” 

As the thought crossed her mind, there was a slight; 
noise in the next room, like the tapping of a stick upon the 
floor, and Gertrude laid her hand upon her sister’s arm. 

Then the noise ceased, and the little panel, about a foot 
square, before which the flowers had been placed, was 
drawn aside, seeming to run into a groove. 

The sisters did not move, but waited, knowing from old 
experience that at a word or movement on their part the 
panel would be clapped impatiently to, and that their visit 
would be a fruitless one. 

A stranger would have thought of rats and the action of 
one of those rodents in what took place ; for now that the 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


65 

panel had been slid back, all remained perfectly still, as if 
the mover were listening and watching. Then at last a 
thin, very white hand appeared, lifted the flowers out of 
the bowl, and they disappeared. 

There was not even a rustling noise heard for a few 
minutes, during which the sisters sat patiently waiting. 

At last there was a faint sigh ; and a cold;— so to speak, 
colorless — voice said : 

“ Is Gertrude there ? ” 

“ Yes, dear uncle,” said the young girl eagerly. 

“ Anyone else ? ” 

“ I am here too, dear uncle,” said Renee. 

“ Hah ! I am glad to hear you, my children — glad to 
hear you. How is my brother ? ” 

“ Papa is not very well, uncle,” said Gertrude. “ Poor 
dear, his cough is very troublesome.” 

“ Poor Humphrey ! he is so weak,” said the voice, in 
the same cold, monotonous way that was almost repulsive 
in its chilling tone. “ Tell him, when he is well enough, 
he can come and talk to me for half an hour. I cannot 
bear more.” 

“ Yes, dear uncle, I will tell him,” said Renee. 

Then there was another pause, and at last the thin white 
hand stole cautiously forth, half covered with a lace frill, 
and the cold voice said : 

“ Renee ! ” 

The young wife left her seat, went forward, took it in 
her ungloved hand, and kissed it. Then she returned to 
her place, and the voice said : 

“ Gertrude ! ” 

The young girl went through the same performance, ? 1 
as she loosed it, the hand was passed gently over both hctf 
cheeks, and then withdrawn, when Gertrude returned to 
her seat, and there was again silence. 

“ You are not happy, Ren6e,” said the voice at last, in 
its cold measured accents ; “ there was a tear on my hand.” 

Renee sighed, but made no reply. 

“Gertrude, child, I like duty towards parents ; -but I 
think a daughter goes too far when, at their wish, she marries 
a man she does not love.” 

“ Oh, uncle dear,” cried Gertrude hysterically, “ pray, 
pray, do not talk like this ! ” 


5 


6b 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


She made a brave effort to keep back her tears, and par- 
tially succeeded, for Renee softly knelt down by her side 
and drew her head close to her breast. 

“ Poor children ! ” said the voice again. “ I am sorry, 
but I cannot help you. You must help yourselves.” 

There was a nervous, querulous tone in the voice now, 
as if the suppressed sobs that faintly rose troubled the 
speaker, but it had passed when it was heard once more in 
a quiet way more like an appeal than a command. 

“ Sing to me.” 

The sisters rose and went to a very old-fashioned grand 
piano, opened it, and Gertrude’s fingers swept the wiry 
jangling cords which sounded quite in keeping with the 
room ; then, subduing the music as much as possible, so 
that their fresh young voices dominated, rising and falling 
in a rich harmony that floated through the room, they sang 
the old, old duet, “ Flow on, thou shining river.” Every 
note seemed to have in it the sadness of age, the mournful 
blending of the bygone when hope was young and disap- 
pointment and care had not crushed with a load of misery 
a heart once fresh as those of the singers. 

A deep sigh came from the little panel, unheard, though, 
by the two girls, and the hand appeared once more for the 
thin white fingers to tap the wood gently in unison with 
the music, which was inexpressibly sweet though sad. 

For how is it that those melodies of the past, even 
though major, seemed to acquire a mournful tone that is not 
minor, but has all its sad sweetness? Take what pathetic 
air you will of a generation or two back, and see if it has 
not acquired within your knowledge a power of drawing 
tears that it had not in the days of old. 

From the simple duet, first one and then the other glided 
to the old-fashioned ditties popular thirty or forty years 
before. “Those Evening Bells,” “Waters ofElle,” and 
the like, till without thinking Gertrude began “ Love Not,” 
her sweet young voice sounding intensely pathetic as she 
went on, gradually gathering inspiration from the words, 
till in the midst of the sweetest, most appealing strain, she 
littered a cry of misery, and threw herself sobbing into her 
sister’s arms. 

“ Oh, Gerty, darling, why did you sing that?” whis- 
pered Renee, trying to soothe her, as her own tears 
fell fast, but for a few minutes in vain, till by a brave 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


67 


effort Gertrude got the better of her hysterical feelings, and, 
hastily wiping her eyes, glanced towards the panel, where 
the bowl of water stood upon the bracket, but the opening 
was closed. 

The sisters looked piteously at one another, and Renee 
whispered : 

“ Speak to him. Tell him you did not wish to make him 
angry.” 

Gertrude glided to the panel, and, stifling a sob, she said 
softly : 

“ Uncle, dear uncle, do not be cross with me — I am very 
sorry. I was so miserable.” 

There was no reply — no sound to indicate that the words 
had been heard ; and after waiting for about a quarter of 
an hour the two girls crossed to the door, went slowly out, 
and found that they had had an audience in the shape 
of Valentine Vidler and his wife, who had been seated 
upon the stairs. 

“ Thank you, my dears,” said Salome, nodding and 
smiling. “ We like to hear you sing. You have made a 
very long stay to-day, and his lunch is quite ready.” 

The sisters were too heart-sore to trust themselves to say 
much, and Vidler opened the door for them, admitting as 
little light as he could by closing it directly and going to 
assist his wife. 

“ Renee,” said Gertrude as they reached the square, “ do 
you remember what Uncle Robert said? ” 

“ Yes. He could not help us — we must help ourselves.” 

“ Then ” There was a pause. 

“ Yes, dear, what ? ” 

“ I’m sure mamma is planning for me to marry Lord 
Henry Moorpark.” 

“ I’m afraid so.” 

“ And I’m sure, Ren dear, he’s a dear, amiable, nice old 
man ; but if he proposes I never will say yes.” 

There was another pause, and then Renee smiled, passed 
her arm round her handsome sister’s neck, and kissed 
her lovingly. 

“ Have you got John Huish very bad ? ” she whispered. 

Gertrude’s cheeks were crimson, and the color flushed 
into her neck as she flung her arms round her sister and hid 
her face on her breast. 


68 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


CHAPTER V. 

DR. STONOR’S PATIENT. 

“ The doctor at home ? ” 

This to a quiet, sedate-looking man in livery, who opened 
the door of one of the serious-looking houses in Finsbury 
Circus, where, upon a very shiny brass plate, were in 
Roman letters the words “ Dr. Stonor.” 

There was not much in those few black letters, but many 
a visitor had gone up the carefully-whitened steps, gazed 
at them, stepped down again with a curious palpitation of 
the heart, and walked right round the Circus two or three 
times to gain composure enough before once more ascend- 
ing the steps and knocking at the door. 

There had been cases — not a few — where visitors had 
spent weeks in making up their minds to go to Dr. Stonor, 
and had reached his doorstep only to hurry back home 
quite unable to face him, and then suffer in secret perhaps 
for months to come. 

For what would that interview reveal ? That the peculiar 
sensations or pains were due to some trifling disorganiza- 
tion that a guinea and a prescription would set right, or 
that the seeds of some fatal disease had begun to shoot ? 

Daniel, factotum to Dr. Stonor, had been standing like 
a spider watching at the slip of a window beside the door 
waiting for sick flies to come into the doctor’s net. 

“ Old game ! ” said Daniel to himself, as he drew back 
from the window to observe unseen, and without moving a 
muscle in his face. For it was Daniel’s peculiarity that he 
never did move the muscles of his face. He would hold 
a patient for his master during a painful operation, be 
scolded, badgered, see harrowing scenes, receive vails, hear 
praise or abuse of the doctor — for these are both applied 
to medicine men — and all without making a sign, losing 
his nerve, or being elated. Daniel was always the same — 
clean, quiet, self-possessed ; and he had seen handsome 
fair-bearded John Huish descend from a cab, walk up to 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


6g 


the door, pass by and go slowly and thoughtfully on, pass- 
ing his hand over his thick golden beard, looking very tall, 
manly and unpatientlike, as he passed on round the 
Circus. 

“ He’ll be back in ten minutes,” said Daniel to himself, 
as he admitted a regular patient and once more closed the 
door. It was a quarter of an hour, though, before John 
Huish came to the house, asked if the doctor was at home, 
was shown into the waiting-room, and in due course came 
face to face with the keen, gray, big-headed, clever-looking 
little practitioner. 

“ Ah, Huish, my dear boy ! Glad to see you, John. Sit 
down. This is kind of you, to look me up. I’m only just 
back from a fishing trip — trouting. Old habit. Down this 
way.” 

“ Well, no, doctor,” said the young man hesitatingly. 
“ The fact is, I came to consult you.” 

“ Glad of it. I was the first person who ever took hold 
of your little hand, and the tiny fingers clutched one of 
mine as if you trusted me. And you always kept it up — 
eh? I’m very glad.” 

“ Glad, sir? ” 

“ Of course I am,” said the doctor, taking out his keys 
and unlocking a drawer. “ What is it, my boy — a little 
cheque ? ” 

u Oh dear no, doctor.” 

“ Nothing serious, I hope.” 

“ I hope not. I thought I would consult you.” 

“ That’s right, my lad. Well, what is it ? Going to buy 
a horse — speculate in the funds — try a yachting trip ? ” 

“ My dear sir,” said Huish, smiling, “ you do not under- 
stand me. I am afraid I am ill.” 

“ 111 ? You ? Ill ? ” said the doctor, jumping up and 
laying his hands on the young man’s shoulders as he gazed 
into his frank, earnest eyes. “ Get up, Jack. You were 
almost my first baby, and I was very proud of you. Finest 
built little fellow I ever saw. There, put out your tongue ” 
— he was obeyed — “ let’s feel your pulse ” — this was done 
— “ here, let me listen at your chest. Pull a long, deep 
breath ; ” and the doctor listened, made him pull off his 
coat and clapped his ear to his back, rumpled his shirt- 
front as he tapped and punched him all over, concluding 
by giving the visitor a back-handed slap in the chest, and 
resuming his seat, exclaiming : 


70 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Why, you young humbug, what do you mean by com- 
ing here with such a cock-and-bull story ? Your physique 
is perfect. You are as sound as a bell. You are some; 
where about thirty years old, and you are a deuced good- 
looking young fellow. What do you want ? ” 

“ You take my breath away, doctor,” said the young 
man, smiling. I want to explain.” 

“ Explain away, then, my dear boy ; but, for goodness’ 
sake, don’t be such an ass as to think the first time you are 
a bit bilious, or hipped, or melancholy, that you are ill. 
Oh, by the way, while I think of it, I had a letter from 
your people yesterday. They want me to have a run down 
to Shropshire.” 

“ Why not go ? ” 

“ Again ? I can’t. Fifty people want me, and they 
would swear to a man if I went away that I was indirectly 
murdering them. But come, I keep on chattering. Now 
then, I say, what’s the matter? In love? ” 

The colored deepened a little on the white forehead, and 
the visitor replied quietly : 

“ I should not consult a physician for that ailment. The 
fact is, that for some while past I have felt as if my memory 
were going.” 

“ Tut ! nonsense ! ’ 

“ At times it seems as if a perfect cloud were drawn be- 
tween the present and the past. I can’t account for it — I 
do not understand it ; but things I have done one week are 
totally forgotten by me the next.” 

“ If they are bad things, so much the better.” 

“ You treat it very lightly, sir, but it troubles me a great 
deal.” 

“ My dear boy, I would not treat it lightly if I thought 
there was anything in it ; but you do not and never have 
displayed a symptom of brain disease, neither have your 
father and mother before you. You are not dissipated. ” 

“ Oh no ! I never ” 

“ You may spare yourself the trouble of talking, John, 
my boy. I could tell in a moment if you had a bit of vice 
in you, and I know you have not. But come, my lad : to 
be serious, what has put this crotchet into your head ? ” 

“ Crotchet or no,” said the young man sadly, “ I have 
for months past been tormented with fears that I have 
something wrong in the head — incipient insanity, or idiocy, 
if you like to call it so.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


71 


“ I don’t like to call it anything of the kind, John Huish,” 
said the doctor tartly, “ because it’s all nonsense. I have 
not studied insanity for the last five-and-twenty years with- 
out knowing something about it ; so you may dismiss that 
idea from your mind. But come, let’s know something 
more about this terrible bugbear.” 

“ Bugbear if you like, doctor, but here is the case. Every 
now and then I have people — friends, acquaintances — re- 
minding me of things I have promished — engagements I 
have made — and which I have not kept.” 

“ What sort of engagements ? ” said the doctor. 

“ Well, generally about little bets, or games at cards.” 

“ That you owe money on ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Huish eagerly. “I have again and again 
been asked for money that I owe.” 

“ Or are said to owe,” said the doctor drily. 

“ Oh, there is no doubt about it,” said Huish. “ About 
a twelvemonth ago, when this sort of thing began ” 

“ What sort of thing? ” said the doctor. 

“ These lapses of memory,” replied Huish. 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ I used to be annoyed, and denied them, till I began to 
be scouted by the men I knew ; and at last one or two of 
them brought unimpeachable witnesses to prove that I was 
in the wrong.” 

“ Oh, John Huish, my dear bov, how can you let your- 
self be imposed upon so easily ! ” 

“ There is no imposition, I assure you. I give you the 
facts.” 

“ Facts ! Did you ever know anyone come and tell you 
that he owed you money, and pay you ? ” 

“ Yes, half a dozen times over — heavier amounts than I 
have had to pay.” 

“ Humph ! that’s strange,” said the doctor, looking 
curiously at his visitor. 

“ Strange ? — it’s fearful ! ” cried the young man passion- 
ately. “ It is getting to be a curse to me, and I cannot 
shake off the horrible feeling that I am losing my mind — 
that I am going wrong. And if this be the case, I cannot 
bear it, especially just now when ” 

He checked himself, and gazed piteously at the man to 
whom he had come for help. 


72 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Be cool, boy. Supposing it is as you say, it is only a 
trifle, perhaps \ but it seems to me that there is a great 
deal of imagination in it.” 

“ Oh no — oh no. I fear I am going, slowly but surely, 
out of my mind.” 

“ Because you forget things after a certain time, eh ? 
Stuff! Don’t be foolish. Why, you never used to think 
that your brain was going wrong when you were a school- 
boy, and every word of the lesson that you knew perfectly 
and said verbatim to a school-fellow dropped out of your 
mind.” 

“ No.” 

“ Of course you did not ; and as to going mad why, my 
dear boy, have you any idea what a lunatic is ? ” 

“ I cannot say that I have.” 

“ Well, then, you shall have,” said the doctor ; “ and 
that will do you more good than all my talking. You shall 
see for yourself what a diseased mind really is, and that 
will strengthen you mentally, and show you how ill-advised 
are your fancies.” 

“ But, doctor, I should not like to be a witness of the 
sufferings of others.” 

“ Nonsense, my boy. There, pray don’t imagine, be- 
cause I live at Highgate, and am licensed to have so many 
insane patients under my care, that you are going to see 
horrible creatures dressed in straw and grovelling in cells. 
My dear John, I am going to ask you to a mad dinner- 
party.” 

“ A mad dinner-party ? ” 

“ Well, there, to come and dine with my sister, myself 
and our patients. No people living in chains or straw. 
Perfectly quiet gentlemen, my dear fellow, but each trou- 
bled with a craze. You would not know that they had 
anything wrong if they did not break out now and then 
upon the particular subject. Come to-night at seven 
$harp.” 

The doctor glanced at his watch, rose, and held out his 
hand ; and though John Huish hesitated, the doctor’s eyes 
seemed to force him to say that he would be there, and he 
jegan to feel for his purse. 

“ Look here, sir,” said the doctor, stopping him : “ if 
;7ou are feeling for fees, don’t insult your father’s old friend 
oy trying to offer him one. There, till seven — say half-past 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


73 


six — and I’ll give you a glass of Burgundy, my boy, that 
shall make you forget all these imaginations.” 

“ Thank you, doctor ” 

“ Not another word, sir, but an rcvoir .” 

“ Ait revoir ,” said Huish ; and he was shown out, to go 
back to his chambers thinking about his ailment — and Ger- 
trude, while the doctor began to muse. 

“ Strange that I should take so much interest in that 
boy. Heigho ! Some years now since I went fly-fishing, 
and fished his father out of the pit. 


CHAPTER VI. 

AUNT PHILIPPA ON MATRIMONY. 

“Will you speak, Isabella, or shall I? ” 

“ If you please, Philippa, will you ? ” said her sister with 
frigid politeness. 

The Honorable Miss Dymcox motioned to her nieces to 
seat themselves, and they sat down. 

Then there was a sharp premonitory “ Hem ! ” and a 
long pause, during which the thoughts of the young ladies 
went astray. 

“ I wonder what that officer’s name is,” thought Clotilde, 
“ and whether that good-looking boy is his squire ? 

Rather a romantic notion this, by the way, and it gave 
Marcus Glen in the young lady’s ideas the position of 
knight ; but it was excusable, for her life had been secluded 
in the extreme. 

“ What a very handsome man that dark officer was that 
we nearly met ! but I don’t like his looks,” mused Marie ; 
and then, as Ruth was thinking that she would rather be 
getting on with some of the needlework that fell to her 
share than listening to her aunt’s lecture — one of the 
periodical discourses it was their fate to hear — there was 
another sharp “ Hem ! ” 

“ Marriage,” said the Honorable Miss Dymcox, “is an 
institution that has existed from the earliest ages of the 
world.” 

Had a bomb-shell suddenly fallen into the chilly, meanly 
furnished drawing-room, where every second article seemed 


74 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


to wear a brown-holland pinafore, and the frame of the old- 
fashioned mirror was tightly draped in yellow canvas, the 
young ladies could not have looked more astonished. 

In their virgin innocency the word “ marriage ” had been 
tabooed to them, and consequently was never mentioned, 
being a subject held to be unholy for the young people’s 
ears. 

Certainly there were times when the wedding of some 
lady they knew was canvassed ; but it was with extreme 
delicacy, and not in the downright fashion of Miss Philip- 
pa’s present speech. 

“ Ages of the world,” assented the Honorable Isabella, 
opening a pale drab fan, and using it gently, as if the sub- 
ject made her warm. 

“ And,” continued Miss Philippa, “ I think it right to 
speak to you children, now that you are verging upon 
womanhood, because it is possible that some day or ano- 
ther you might either of you receive a proposal.” 

“ That sun-browned officer with the heavy moustache,” 
thought Clotilde, whose cheeks began to glow. “ She thinks 
he may try to be introduced. Oh, I wish he may ! ” 

“ When your poor — I say it with tears, Isabella.” 

“ Yes, sister, with tears,” assented that lady. 

“ I am addressing you, Clotilde and Marie,” continued 
Miss Philippa. “ You, Ruth, of course cannot be answer- 
able for the stroke of fate which placed you in our hands, 
an adopted child.” 

“ An adopted child,” said Miss Isabella, closing her fan 
for the moral atmosphere seemed cooler. 

“ When your poor mother, vour poor, weak mamma, 
children, wantonly and recklessly, and in opposition to the 
wishes of all her relatives, insisted upon marrying Mr. 
Julian Riversley, who was never even acknowledged by any 
member of our family ” 

“ I remember papa as being very handsome, and with 
dark hair,” said Marie. 

“ Marie ! ” exclaimed the Honorable Misses Dymcox in 
a breath. “ I am surprised at you ! ” 

“ Pray be silent, child,” added Miss Philippa. 

“ Yes, aunt.” 

“ I say your poor mamma must have known that she was 
degrading the whole family — degrading us, Isabella.” 

“ Yes, sister, degrading us,” assented that lady. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


75 


“ By marrying a penniless man of absolutely no birth.” 

“ Whatever,” assented Miss Isabella. 

“ As I have often told you, children, it was during the 
corrupting times of the Commonwealth that the lineal de- 
scendants of Sir Guy Dymcoques — the s not sounded, my 
dears — allowed the family name to be altered into Dymcox, 
which by letters patent was made imperative, and the pro- 
per patronymic has never been restored to its primitive 
orthography. It is a blot on our family history to which I 
will no more allude.” 

Miss Isabella allowed the fan to fall into her lap, and 
accentuated the hollowness of her thin cheek by pressing 
it in with one pointed finger. 

“ To resume,” said Miss Philippa, while her nieces 
watched her with wondering eyes : “ our dear sister Delia, 
your poor mamma, repented bitterly for her weakness in 
marrying a poor man — your papa, children — and being 
taken away to a dreary place in Central France, where your 
papa had the management of a very leaden silver-mine, which 
only produced poverty. The sufferings to which Mr. Ju- 
lian Riversley exposed your poor mamma were dreadful, 
my dears. And,” continued Miss Philippa, dotting each 
eye with her handkerchief, which was not moistened, “ your 
poor mamma died. She was killed, I might say, by the 
treatment of your papa ; but ( De mortuis,’ Isabella? ” 

“ Nil nisi bonum,” sighed the Honorable Isabella. 
u Exactly, sister,” continued the Honorable Philippa — 
died like several of your unfortunate baby brothers and 
sisters, my dears ; and shortly after — four years exactly, 
Was it not, Isabella ? ” 

“Three years and eleven months, sister.” 

“ Thank you, Isabella. Mr. Julian Riversley either fell 
down that lead-mine or threw himself there in remorse for 
having deluded a female scion of the ancient house of Dym- 
coques to follow his fortunes into a far-off land. He was 
much like you in physique, my dears, but I am glad to say 
not in disposition, thanks to our training and that of your 
mamma’s spiritual instructor, Mr. Paul Montaigne, to 
whom dearest Delia entrusted you, and whom your repen- 
tant — I hope — papa gave me sacred charge of bringing you 
to England to share the calmness of our peaceful home.” 

“ Peaceful home,” assented Miss Isabella. 


7 6 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ I need hardly tell you, children, that the Riversleys 
were, or are, nobodies of whom we know nothing — never 
can know anything.” 

“ Whatever,” assented Miss Isabella. 

“ To us they do not exist — neither will they for you, my 
dears. We believe that Mr. Julian had a sister who mar- 
ried a Mr. Huish ; that is all we know.” 

“ All we know,” assented Miss Isabella. 

“ I will say nothing of the tax it has been upon us in 
connection with our limited income. A grateful country, 
recognizing the services of papa, placed these apartments 
at our service. In consideration of the thoughtfulness of 
the offer, we accepted these apartments — thirty-five years 
ago, I think, Isabella ? ” 

“ Thirty five years and a half, sister.” 

“ Exactly ; and we have been here ever since, so that 
we have been spared the unpleasantry of paying a rent. 
But I need not continue that branch of my subject. What 
I wish to impress upon you, children, is the fact that in 
spite of your poor mamma’s mesalliance , you are of the 
family of Dymcox, and that it is your duty to endeavor to 
raise, and not degrade, our noble house. I think I am 
following out the proper line of argument, Isabella ? ” 

“ Most accurately, sister.” 

“ In the event, then, of either of you — at a future time, 
of course — receiving a proposal of marriage ” 

Miss Isabella reopened her fan, and began to use it in a 
quick, agitated manner. 

“ It would be your duty to study the interest of your 
family, children, and to endeavor to regain that which your 
poor mamma lost. To a lady marriage ” 

Miss Isabella’s fan raised quite a draught in the chilly 
room, and the white tissue-paper chimney-apron rustled in 
the breeze. 

“ Marriage is the means by which we may recover the 
steps lost by those who have gone before ; and I would 
have you to remember that our position, our family, our 
claims to a high descent, warrant our demanding as a right 
that we might mate with the noblest of the land.” 

For a moment a curious idea crossed Clotilde’s brain — 
that her aunts had some thought of entering the marriage 
state ; but it passed away on the instant by the next 
words. 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


77 

“ Your Aunt Isabella and myself might at various times 
have entered into alliance with others ” 

Miss Isabella’s fan went rather slowly now. 

“ But we knew what was due to our family, and we said 
‘ No ! ’ We sacrificed ourselves in the cause of duty, and 
we demand, children, in obedience to our teaching, that 
you do the same.” 

“Yes, aunt,” said Clotilde demurely. 

“ An impecunious, poverty-stricken alliance,” continued 
Miss Philippa, “ is at best a crime, one of which no true 
woman would be guilty : while an alliance that brings to 
her family wealth and position is one of which she might 
be proud. You understand, my children ? ” 

“ Yes, aunt,” in chorus. 

“ We — your Aunt Isabella and I — of course care little 
for such things ; but we consider that young people of birth 
and position should, as a matter of duty, look forward to 
having diamonds, a town house, carriages and servants, 
pin-money. These are social necessities, children. Ple- 
beians may perhaps consider that they are superfluities, 
but such democratic notions are the offspring of ignorance. 
Your grandfather dev )ted himself to the upholding of 
Church and State ; he was considered worthy of the trust 
of the Premier of his day ; and it is our duty, as his descen- 
dants, to hold his name in reverence, and to add to its 
lustre.” 

Marie, as her aunt stoppped for breath, wondered in 
what way her grandfather had benefited his country, and 
could not help wishing that he had done more to benefit 
his heirs. Then she half wondered that she had ventured 
to harbor such a thought, and just then Miss Philippa said 
blandly : 

“ I think that will do, Isabella ? ” 

“ Yes, I think that will do,” said that lady, dropping her 
fan. 

“ You may retire to the schoolroom, then, my dears,” 
continued Miss Philippa. “ Clotilde, come here.” 

The dark girl, with an unusual flush beneath her creamy 
skin, crossed the room to her aunt, who laid her hands upon 
her shoulder, gazed wistfully in her eyes, and then kissed 
her upon either cheek. 

“ Wonderfully like your papa, my child,” she said and 
she passed her on to Miss Isabella. “ But the Dymcoques’ 
carriage.” 


7 * 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Ah, yes ! wonderfully like your papa,” sighed Miss 
Isabella, and she, too, kissed Clotikle upon either cheek. 
“ But the Dymcoques’ carriage.” 

“ Marie,” said Miss Philippa, “ come here, child.” 

Marie rose from her chair, crossed to her aunt, received 
a hand upon each shoulder and a kiss upon either cheek. 

“ Yes, your papa’s lineaments,” sighed Miss Philippa, 
passing her on also to Miss Isabella. 

“ Wonderfully like indeed,” assented Miss Isabella 
sadly. 

“ You may retire now, children,” said Miss Philippa. 
“ You had better resume your practice and studies in the 
schoolroom. Well, Ruth, why do you not go ? ” 

Poor Ruth had been expecting a similar proceeding to- 
wards her, but it did not come about, and she followed her 
cousins out of the room after each had made a formal 
curtsey, which was acknowledged by their aunts as if they 
were sovereigns at a state reception. 

“ It will cost a great deal, v Isabella,” said Miss Philippa 
as soon as they were gone. 

“Yes, dear; but, as Lady Littletown says, it is an abso- 
lute necessity ; and it is time they left the schoolroom for 
a more enlarged sphere.” 

The young ladies went straight to the apartment, where 
they had passed the greater part of their lives, in company 
with a green-baize-covered table, a case of unentertaining 
works of an educational cast, written in that delightfully 
pompous didactic style considered necessary by our grand- 
fathers for the formation of the youthful mind. There were 
also selections from Steele and Addison, with Johnson to 
the extent of “ Rasselas.” Mangnall was there, side by 
side with Goldsmith, and a goodly array of those speckled- 
covered school books that used to have such a peculiar 
smell of size. On a side-table covered with a washed-out 
red and gray table cover of that charming draughtboard 
pattern and cotton fabric, where the gray was red on the 
opposite side, and in other squares the reds and grays 
seemed to have married and had neutral offspring, stood a 
couple of battered and chipped twelve-inch globes, one of 
which was supposed to be celestial, and the other terres- 
trial ; but time and mildew had joined hand in hand to paint 
these representations of the spheres with entirely fresh 
designs, till the terrestrial globe was studded with little 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


79 


dark, damp spots or stars of its own, and fungoid continents 
had formed themselves on the other amid seas of stain, 
where nothing but a&rial space .and constellations should 
have been. 

Ruth entered the schoolroom last, to cross over to where 
stood on its thin, decrepit legs the harp of other days, in 
the shape of a most unmusical little piano which, when 
opened, looked like some fossil old-world monster of the 
toad nature, squeezed square and squatting there in a high- 
Shouldered fashion, gaping wide-mouthed, and showing a 
row of hideous old yellow teeth, the teeth upon which for 
many a weary hour the girls had practised the “ Battle of 
Prague,” “ Herz Quadrilles,” and the overture to “ Masa- 
niello,” classical strains that were rather out of tune, and 
in unwonted guise, consequent upon so many notes being 
dumb, while what seemed like a row of little imps with 
round, flats hats performed a kind of excited automatic 
dance d la Blondm upon the wire in the entrails of the 
fossil toad. 

As Ruth crossed and stood leaning with one hand upon 
the old piano, with her eyelids drooping, and the great tears 
gathering slowly beneath the heavily-fringed lids, a deep 
sigh struggled for exit. It was not much to have missed 
that cold display of something like affection just shown by 
the ladies to her cousins ; but she felt the neglect most 
sorely, for her tender young heart was hungry for love, and 
all these many sad years that she had passed in the cheer- 
less schoolroom, whose one window looked out upon the 
dismal fountain in the gloomy court, she had known so 
little of what real affection meant. 

If she could only have received one word of sympathy 
just then she would have been relieved, but she was roused 
from her sad reverie by a sharp pat upon the cheek from 
Clotilde. 

“ Tears ? Why, you’re jealous ! Here, Rie, the stupid 
thing is crying because she was not kissed.” 

“ Goose ! ” exclaimed Marie. “ She missed a deal. Ugh ! 
It’s very horrid.” 

“ Yes,” cried Clotilde. “ Bella’s teeth-spring squeaked, 
and I thought Pip meant to bite. Here, Ruthy, come and 
kiss the places and take off the nasty taste.” 

She held out one of her cheeks, and Ruth, whose face 
still tingled with the smack she had received, came forward 


8o 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


smiling, threw her arms round her cousin, and kissed her 
cheeks again and again. 

“ Ah, I feel sweeter now ! ” said Clotilde, pushing Ruth 
away. “ Make her do you, Rie.” 

Marie laughed unpleasantly as, without being asked, 
Ruth, smiling, crossed to her chair and kissed her affec- 
tionately again and again, her bright young face lighting up 
with almost childish pleasure, for she was of that nature of 
womankind whose greatest satisfaction is to give rather 
than receive. 

“ There, that will do, baby,” cried Marie, laughing. 
“ What a gushing girl you are, Ruth ! ” but she kissed her 
in return all the same, with the effect that a couple of tears 
stole from the girl’s eyes. “ Mind you don’t spoil my 
lovely dress. Now then, Clo, what does all this mean? ” 

“ Mean ? ” cried her sister, placing one hand upon the 
table and vaulting upon it in a sitting position. “ It means 
— here, Ruth, go down on your knees by the door, and 
keep your ear by the keyhole. If you let that old hyaena 
Markes, or either of those wicked old cats, come and hear 
what we say, I’ll buy a sixpenny packet of pins and come 
and stick them in all over you when you’re in bed.” 

Ruth ran to the door, knelt down, and placed her ear as 
she was ordered to do, while her cousin went on : 

“ It means that the wicked old things are obliged to own 
at last that we have grown into women, and they want to 
get us married. Whoop ! Lucky for them they do. If they 
didn’t, I’d run away with one of the soldiers. I say, Rie, 
wasn’t that big officer nice ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said her sister pettishly. I didn’t 
taste him.” 

“ Who said you did, pig? Diamonds, and carriages, and 
servants, Rie. I’d have a box at the opera, too, and one 
at all the theatres. Oh, Rie ! wait till I get my chance. 
I’ll keep up the dignity of the family ; but when my turn 
does come, oh ! won’t I serve those two old creatures 
out.” 

“ Dignity of the family, indeed ! ” cried Marie angrily. 
“ How dare they speak like they did of poor dear papa, 
even if he was a Riversley.” 

“ And the wicked old thing boasting all the time about 
her Norman descent, and Sir Guyfawkes de Dymcoques. I 
dare, say he was -me of the conqueror’s tag-rags, who came 
to see what he could get.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Si 


“ I know poor papa was very handsome/’ 

“Just like you, Rue,” laughed Clotilde. 

“ No, he was more like you, Clo,” said her sister quietly. 
“ I don't see anything to laugh at. Do you suppose I 
don’t know that we are both very beautiful women ? ” 

Clotilde’s eyes flashed, and her cheeks began to glow as 
she saw her sister, in her shabby gingham morning dress, 
place her hands behind her head, interlacing her fingers 
and leaning sidewise in an attitude full of natural, unstu- 
died grace. She looked down at kneeling Ruth. 

“ We are both handsome girls now, aren’t we, Ruth? ,f 
she said imperiously. 

“ Yes, dear, very — very,” said the girl, flushing as she 
spoke. “ I think you lovely with your beautiful dark eyes, 
and soft, warm complexions ; and you both have such 
splendid figures and magnificent hair.” 

Marie’s eyes half closed in a dreamy way, as if some 
dawning love fancy were there, and an arch smile curled 
her rich red lip. 

She was quite satisfied, and accepted the girl’s admira- 
tion as her due, hardly moving as Clotilde bounded from 
the table to the door, listened for a moment, and then, 
seizing Ruth by the pink, shelly little ear, half dragged her 
into the room. Her hot blood showed in her vindictive, 
fierce way, as she stood threateningly over the kneeling girl. 

“ Lying little pig,” she hissed, “ dow dare you say such 
things ! It’s your mean-spirited, cringing, favor-currying 
way. You think we are both as ugly as sin.” 

“ I don’t indeed, indeed I don’t,” cried the girl, stung by 
the charge into indignant remonstrance. “ I think you are 
both the most beautiful girls I ever saw. Oh, Clotilde ! 
you know what lovely eyes and hair you have.” 

“ I haven’t ; my eyes are dark and my hair is long and 
coarse.” 

“It’s beautiful!” cried Ruth, “ isn’t it, Marie? Why 
see how everyone turns to look at you both when you are 
out, in spite of your being so badly dressed.” 

“ Go back to the door. No, stop,” cried Clotilde, 
pushing the poor girl’s head to and fro as she retained her 
ear. 

“Clothilde dear, you hurt me very much,” sobbed Ruth. 

“ I am trying to hurt you,” said Clotilde, showing her 
white glistening teeth.” 


6 


82 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Let her be, Clo.” 

“ Shan’t. Mind your own business.” 

“ Let her be, I say,” cried Marie, flashing into excite- 
ment. “ If you don’t loose her I’ll scratch you.” 

“ You daren’t,” cried Clotilde, and as her sister’s face 
turned red her own grew pale. “ Go back to the door and 
listen, little fibster.” 

“ I dare,” said Marie, relapsing into her half-dreamy 
way. “ Come here, Ruthy ; I won’t have you hurt. It’s 
truth, isn’t it ? We are beautiful ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Ruth, starting to her feet, and joyfully nest- 
ling in the arms held out for her, while Marie kissed her 
with some show of affection. “Yes, you are both beauti- 
ful, and Clotilde knows I would not tell her a story.” 

The gratified look had spread by this time to the elder 
sister’s face, and she returned to her position upon the 
table, where she sat swinging one leg to and fro. 

“ Go back and listen, Ruthy,” said Marie quietly. “ You 
are quite right, dear — we are both handsome ; and so are 
you.” 

“ I ? ” laughed Ruth, with a merry, innocent look bright- 
ening her face ; “ oh no.” 

“Yes, you are,” said Marie, smoothing her own dark 
hair. “You are very nice, and pretty, and sweet, and 
when I’m married and away from this wicked old poverty- 
stricken workhouse, you shail come and live with me.” 

“ Shall I, Marie ? ” cried the girl with the eagerness of a 
child. 

“Yes, dear; and you shall have a handsome husband 
of your own.” 

Ruth laughed merrily. 

“ What should I do with a husband ? ” 

“ Hold your tongue, Rie, and don’t stuff the child’s head 
with such nonsense.” 

“Child indeed! why, she is only a year younger than I. 
Oh, it has been abominable ; we have been treated like 
babies, and I feel sometimes now as if I were only a little 
girl. But only wait.” 

“ Yes,” cried Clotilde with a curious laugh, “ only wait.” 

“Some one coming,” whispered Ruth, leaping up from 
the floor where she had been listening, and the child-like 
obedience to the stern authority in which they had been 
trained resumed its sway. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


«3 


Clotilde bounded to the piano, and began to practise a 
singing lesson, her rich contralto voice rising and falling as 
she ran up an arpeggio, trying to make it accord with five 
notes struck together out of tune ; Marie darted to a chair, 
and snatched up a quill pen, inked her forefinger, and bent 
over a partly written exercise on composition — a letter 
addressed to a lady of title, to be written in the style of 
Steele ; and Ruth snatched up a piece of needlework, and 
began to sew. Then the door opened, and Markes, the 
nurse, appeared. 

“ Miss Clotilde and Miss Marie to come to the dining- 
room directly.” 

“ What for, Markes ? ” cried Clotilde, pausing in the 
middle of a rich toned run full of delicious melody. 

“ Come and see. There, I’ll tell you — may as well, I 
suppose. Dressmaker to measure you for some new 
frocks.” 

“ La — ra — ra — ra — ra — ra — ra — rah ! ” sang Clotilde in 
a powerful crescendo, as she swung round upon the music- 
stool and then leaped up, while Marie rose slowly, with a 
quiet, natural grace. 

“ Am — am I to come, too ? ” said Ruth. 

“You? No. It’s them,” said Markes grimly. “Fine 
goings on, * pon my word.” 

“ What are fine goings on, Markes ? ” cried Clotilde. 

“ Why, ordering new dresses. Better buy a new carpet 
for one of the bedrooms, and spend a little more money on 
the living. I’m getting sick of the pinching and griping 
ways.” 

“ I say, Markes, what’s for dinner to-day ? ” exclaimed 
Marie, on finding the woman in a more communicative 
mood than usual. 

“Cold boiled mutton.” 

“Ugh ! ” ejaculated Clotilde. “ I hate cold mutton. Is 
there no pudding ? ” 

“ Yes ; it’s pudding day.” 

“ That’s better. What pudding is it ? ” 

Markes shook her head. 

« Tell me, and I’ll give you a kiss,” said Clotilde. 

“ If your aunts was to hear you talk like that they’d have 
fits,” grumbled the woman. “ It’s rice-pudding.” 

“Baked?” 

“ No.” 

“ Boiled in milk ? ” 


84 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ No — plain boiled.” 

“ Sauce or jam with it ? ” 

“ Sauce or jam ! ” said the woman, in tones of disgust. 
“ Neither on ’em, but sugar and a bit o’ butter ; and think 
yourselves lucky to get that. New dresses, indeed ! It’s 
shameful ; and us in the kitchen half starved ! ” 

“ Well, we can’t help it,” said Marie. “ I’m sure we 
don’t live any too well.” 

“ No, you don’t,” said the woman, grinning. “ But it 
does seem a shame to go spending money as they seem to 
mean to do on you two. I ’spose you’re going to be 
married, ain’t you ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Clotilde. “ Are we ? ” 

“ There, don’t ask me. I don’t know nothing at all 
about it, and I shan’t speak a word. I only know what I 
heard them say.” 

“ Do tell us, Marky dear, there’s a dear, good old 
nursey, and we’ll do just as you tell us,” said Clotilde, in 
a wheedling way. 

“ You both make haste down, or you’ll both have double 
lessons to get off, so I tell you.” 

“ But tell us,” said Marie, “ and we’ll both give you a 
kiss.” 

“ You keep yqipr kisses for your rich husbands, my 
dears, and I hope ypu’ll like giving ’em — that’s all I can 
say. I told yoii sp : there goes the bell.” 


CHAPTER VII, 

ECCENTRIC GUESTS, 

u That’s right — I adore punctuality,” said Dr. Stonor, as 
John Huish was ushered into the drawing-room of Laurel 
Hall. For, having mastered the repugnance which had 
made him feel disposed to send a message to put off his 
visit, he had chartered a hansom, and run up to the 
doctor’s house. 

There was nothing new about it externally, for it was one 
of those old red-brick buildings that our ancestors knew so 
well how to contrive, and which they always surrounded 
with iron railings with great gates about double their height. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


8 $ 

This was evidently for protection ; but why the gates were 
made so high and the railings so low has never been yet 
found out.. 

So John Huish rang and was admitted, starting slightly 
on finding himself face to face with Daniel ; but as that 
individual acted as if they had never met before, and asked 
him his name, the visitor felt more composed, and entered, 
and was announced. 

“ My sister, Miss Stonor,” said the doctor. “ Selina, 
my dear, this is one of my oldest patients. I prescribed 
for’ him for infantile colic when he was a month old, and 
lanced his gums at six.” 

John Huish found himself face to face with a thin, prim 
little lady in tightly-fitting black silk with white collar and 
cuffs. She was rather pale, had perfectly gray hair in 
smooth bands, and looked rather wistful, but she saluted 
their guest with a quiet smile, and then he was led off to 
be introduced to the others present. 

“ This is Captain Lawdor, Mr. Rawlinson, Mr. Roberts,” 
continued the doctor. “My old friend John Huish.” 
And he introduced Huish in turn to a rather bluff-looking, 
florid man with gray whiskers ; a heavy stern and stubborn 
looking man with iron-gray hair and a closely-trimmed 
beard; and a slight, delicate man with rather a sad expres- 
sion, which, however, lit up with a genial smile. 

John Huish was very soon engaged with Captain Law- 
dor on the question of yachting, and found his new 
acquaintance somewhat of an enthusiast upon the build 
and rig of sea-going boats, his preference being for the 
yawl. But, all the same, he found time to exchange a few 
words with the thin, pensive-looking Mr. Roberts, who 
chatted about the politics of the hour, and with Mr. 
Rawlinson, whose speech quite carried out the stubborn 
appearance of his knotty forehead and short iron-gray hair. 
He was very indignant about a railway accident mentioned 
in the daily paper, and gave it as his opinion that there 
would be no safety until heavy penalties were inflicted 
upon the companies, or else until the lines were in the 
hands of the Government. 

Then Daniel came in and announced dinner, and Mr. 
Roberts taking down Miss Stonor, Huish found himself 
with the doctor. 

“ Patients not well enough to show up, doctor ? ” he 
said quietly, as they went towards the dining-room 


86 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Eh ? ” 

“ I said, ‘ Patients not well enough to show up ? ’ ” 

“ Hist ! Don’t mention them,” said the doctor ; and 
Huish gave a sigh of relief as he thought how much better 
the dinner would pass off without such company. 

A minute later and they were seated at table, John 
Huish on the doctor’s right, and the captain on his right 
again. The stubborn heavy man was upon Miss Stonor’s 
right, and the pensive-looking man facing Huish. 

Grace was said, the cover of the soup-tureen was lifted 
with a flourish by Daniel, and Miss Stonor ladled out the 
clear brown julienne , half hidden herself behind the tureen, 
till all were helped but Mr. Rawlinson and the doctor. 

Mr. Rawlinson passed his hands through his iron-gray 
hair, and smiled as he watched the ladle go down into the 
steaming fluid and come up again to be emptied into the 
plate held by Daniel. 

“And so, Rawlinson, you would heavily fine the com- 
panies ? ” said the doctor. 

“ Indeed I would,” was the reply. “ Would you mind, 
Miss Stonor,” he continued insinuatingly, “ half a ladleful 
more? Delicious soup. Thanks.” 

Miss Stonor smiled, and the soup was placed before him, 
when, to the amazement of Huish, Mr. Rawlinson sent his 
chair back with a quick motion, deftly lifted the soup-plate 
on to the Turkey carpet, and, as if it were a footpan, com- 
posedly placed the toes of his patent-leather shoes therein. 

Miss Stonor did not move a muscle — she might have been 
a disciple of Daniel ; while the doctor said quietly : “ Head 
hot, Rawlinson ? ” 

“ Yes, very,” was the reply, as the eccentric guest smiled 
and nodded. 

“ I’d go and lie down for an hour,” said the doctor 
gently. 

“ Would you — would you ? ” said Mr. Rawlinson, smiling 
pleasantly. “ Well, I will.” 

“ Come and join us presently if you feel better,” said the 
doctor. 

“ Certainly I will,” said Mr. Rawlinson. “ Miss Stonor, 
you’ll excuse me ? ” 

Miss Stonor bowed, and he turned upon Daniel. 

“ A napkin, Daniel,” he said rather severely. “ I cannot 
leave the roqn} with my shoes in this state.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


87 


He lifted his feet from the soup-plate as he spoke, and 
sat with his legs at right angles to his body, while in the 
most matter-of-fact way Daniel stooped down, wiped the 
patent-leather shoes, and, sticking his thumbs into his arm- 
holes, Mr. Rawlinson calmly left the room. 

“ Suppose you ease off a little to the left, Roberts,” said 
the doctor, as the soup-plate was removed. “ Rawlinson 
will not be back to dinner.” 

“ No,” said the captain, smiling. “ Poor fellow ! ” he 
continued, turning to Huish ; “ you would not have thought 
he was a little wrong, I suppose ? ” 

“ Indeed I should not,” said Huish eagerly. 

“ No,” said the captain. “ He looks as sane as I am ; 
but he breaks out now and then, poor fellow ! ” 

Just then Daniel was helping the guests to sherry, and 
Huish noticed that the captain’s glass was passed. 

It seemed strange, but the conversation took off his 
attention, and he thought no more of it till Daniel set 
down the decanter, when, picking up the little round roll 
that lay by his napkin, the captain threw it with so good an 
aim that he hit the solid servitor a smart crack on the back 
of the head. 

“ Now, Captain Lawdor,” said Miss Stonor, in tones of 
bland reproof, ‘ r have I not told you that if you will persist 
in doing that you must not dine with us ? ” 

“ Hush ! hush ! ” he whispered apologetically. “ Don’t 
scold me before the company. Poor fellow ! 1 don’t like 
to see a new patient upset. That fellow always passes me 
with the sherry.” 

John Huish’s countenance was so ludicrous at being 
taken for a new patient that the doctor exchanged glances 
with his sister, and it was all they could do to keep from 
bursting into a hearty fit of laughter. The doctor, how- 
ever, suppressed his, and said quietly : 

“ My sister is quite right, Lawdor, and you must get rid 
of that habit.” 

The captain drew out his pocket-handkerchief, shed 
tears, wiped his eyes, and ended by taking out a half- 
crown, which he slipped into Daniel’s hand as he removed 
his empty plate. 

John Huish felt a little disturbed as he saw the real state 
of affairs, but he tried to appear at his ease, and plunged 
into conversation with Miss Stonor, not, however, before 


88 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


he had directed an uneasy glance or two at his quiet, 
pensive companion across the table, who, however, was 
carrying on a discussion with the doctor. 

Huish could not help thinking of the knives as the 
captain turned to him with a pleasant smile lighting up his 
ruddy face, from which all trace of sorrow had now passed. 

“ That’s a nasty trick,” he said ; “ but I never knew a 
man without some bad habit or another. I could hit him, 
though, with a biscuit at fifty paces.” 

“ Indeed,” said Huish. 

“Yes, that I could. If I’ve hit Daniel once, I’ve done 
it a hundred times. But we were talking about yachting. 
Now, I’ve got a plan for a ship which I have submitted to 
the Admiralty.” 

“ Oh,” said Huish to himself, “ here, then, is the sore 
place.” Then aloud, “ Indeed ! ” 

“ Yes ; a splendid idea. But, by the way, you know 
how fond we sailors are of talking about pitching a 
biscuit? ” 

“ To be sure,” said Huish. 

“Excuse me a few moments. A sailor always eats 
when he has a chance. May be called on deck at any 
moment. Would you oblige me ? ” said the captain sud- 
denly to Huish. 

“ I beg your pardon, certainly,” said Huish ; and, partly 
from habit, he placed his glass in his eye and brought it to 
bear on the speaker. 

“ This is rather a good story — eh, doctor ? ” 

“ Yes. Go on, Captain Lawdor.” 

“ Well, you see, I had been communicating with the 
Admiralty for six years about my invention when — would 
you oblige me by taking that glass out of your eye ? ” said 
the captain, breaking off short in his narrative. “ It 
irritates me, and makes me feel as if I must throw some- 
thing at it.” 

Joun Huish’s eyeglass dropped inside his vest, while, in 
spite of all his efforts to master his emotions, he glanced 
uneasily at the door. 

“ But you would not do anything so rude, Lawdor,” said 
the doctor gravely, as he fixed his eye upon the captain. 

“ Thank you, doctor. No; of course I would not. I 
should be extremely sorry to insult a patient of yours.” 

Huish began to feel for his glass, but remembered him- 
self, and listened eagerly to the captain, while Mr. Roberts 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 89 

seemed to have sunk into a pensive, thoughtful state, 
paying no heed to what was going on at the table. 

“ If I had danced attendance in Whithall once,” said 
Captain Lawdor, “ I had hung about that entrance a 
thousand times, and it was, fill up forms, make minutes, 
present petitions to my Lords, address this department 
and come back to that, till it nearly drove me — till,” he 
added hastily, “ I was very wroth with them, and one day 
— let me see, I think I told you,” he continued, rolling up 
a piece of new bread into a marble, “ that I was an excel- 
lent shot with a biscuit ? ” and he stared hard at Huish. 

“ Yes, you did,” said Huish, smiling. 

“ Don’t laugh, sir,” exclaimed the captain. “ This is not 
a ribald jest.” 

“ Breakers ahead, captain,” said the doctor, holding his 
glass to be refilled. 

“ To be sure, of course, doctor. Wear ship — you are 
listening sir ? ” 

“ With the greatest attention,” replied Huish, who was 
becoming reconciled to his position. 

“ Well, sir, one day I went with my pockets filled with 
the roundest, smallest, and hardest ships’ biscuits I could 
procure, and — you are not attending, Roberts,” he ex- 
claimed, filliping the bread marble at John Huish’s vis-d- 
vis, who bowed and smiled. 

“ Well, sir, as I told you, I went loaded with the biscuits, 
and marched straight into a board room, or a committee 
room, or something of the kind, and there I stormed them 
for quite ten minutes before they got me out. Ha, ha, ha ! 
I emptied my pockets first, and the way I rattled the 
biscuits on one bald-headed fellow’s pate was something to 
remember. I did not miss him once, Mr. Huish,” he said, 
turning sharply round. 

“ Indeed ? ” he said, smiling. 

“ In — deed, in — deed,” said the captain. “ It was such 
a head ! He was one of those youngish men whose heads 
are so aggravatingly white and smooth and shiny that they 
do not look bald, but perfectly naked. He was a Junior 
Lord of the Admiralty, and I declare to you, sir, that his 
head was perfectly indecent till I colored it a little with the 
biscuits.” 

“ Yes, an amusing story,” said the doctor, as the dinner 
went on. “ Come, Roberts, you are very quiet. Have a 
glass of that dry champagne ? ” 


90 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ And once again I see that brow,” said Mr. Roberts 
in a low soft, sweet voice : “ no bridal wreath is there, a 
widow’s sombre cap conceals — thank you, doctor,” he con- 
tinued sighing as he altered the position of the glass. 

The dinner passed off without any further incident, save 
that Mr. Rawlinson returned looking very quiet and calm, 
and in time for the second course, of which he partook 
heartily, rising after the dessert to open the door- for Miss 
Stonor to leave the room, and all in the most natural 
manner. 

“ Suppose we go into my room a bit now,” said the 
doctor. “We can have a cigar there;” and Daniel 
entering at that moment with coffee, it was taken into the 
doctor’s sanctum, the patients following the tray ; the 
doctor hanging back with his principal guest. 

“ Well, my dear John, do you think you are going mad 
now ? ” 

“No,” was the quick reply. 

“Of course not. You see now what even a mild form 
of mania is.” 

“ I do,” was the reply. “ But look here, doctor,” said 
Huish earnestly ; “ this feeling has troubled me terribly 
just lately.” 

“ And why ? ” said the doctor sharply, for Huish hesi- 
tated. 

“ Well, the fact is, doctor, it is possible that I may marry 
some day, and I felt ” 

“ Yes, of course, I know,” said the doctor ; “ you felt, 
and quite rightly, that it would be a crime to marry some 
sweet young girl if you had the seeds of insanity waiting to 
develop themselves in your brain.” 

“ Yes, doctor, that was it.” 

“ My dear John Huish, you are a bit of a favorite of 
mine, and I like you much.” 

“ Thank you, doctor, I ” 

“ I made the acquaintance of your father and mother in 
a peculiar manner, and they have always trusted me since.” 

“Yes; I have heard something of it from my father, 
but ” 

“ Just hold your tongue and listen to me, sir. You have, 
I am sure, chosen some sweet, gentle, good girl ; nothing 
else would suit you. So all I have to say is this : your 
brain is as right as that of any man living. Marry her, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


91 


and the sooner the better. I like these young marriages, 
and hang all those musty old fogies who preach about im- 
providence and so many hundreds a year ! Marry early, 
while you and the woman you love are in the first flush of 
your youth and vigor. It’s nature — it’s holy — and the 
good God smiles upon it. Damn it all, sir ! it makes me 
savage to see a wretched, battered old fellow being chosen 
by a scheming mother of the present day as a husband 
for her child. Money and title will not compensate for 
youth. It’s a wrong system, John Huish, a wrong system. 
I’m a doctor, and I ought to know. Marry, then, my dear 
boy, as soon as you like, and God bless you ! ” 

“ Thank you, doctor, thank you/’ said Huish, smiling. 
“ But I say, doctor, if it is not impertinence, why didn’t 
you marry young? ” 

“ Because I was a fool. I wanted to make money and 
a name in my profession, and did not calculate what would 
be the cost. They cost me thirty years, John Huish, and 
now I am an old fogey, content to try and do some good 
among my poor patients. But come away ; they will think 
me rude. Eh, going now ? Well, I will not say stop, as 
you have so far to go back. One more word : think your 
head’s screwed on right now ? ” 

“ Yes, doctor.” 

“ So do I. If it ever goes wrong, come to me, and I’ll 
turn it back.” 

But John Huish did not feel quite satisfied, all the same. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

IN BORROWED PLUMES. 

There was a good deal of excitement in the Hampton 
Court dovecote, and a general touching up of plumage, for 
Lady Littletown, who resided at Hampton, so as to be 
near her dear old friend Lady Anna Maria Morton, who 
had rooms up a narrow dingy stone staircase in the corner 
of a cloistered court, in the private apartments at the 
Palace, had sent out cards for her dinner-party and “ at 
home.” 

Lady Littletown was rich, and her position in the society 
of the neighborhood was that of queen. A widow for many 


92 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


years, she was always thinking of marriage. Not for her- 
self. She had been through the fire, and found it hot. In 
fact, she bore her mental scars to her elder age, for it was 
a well-known fact that the late Viscount Littletown was the 
extreme opposite of an angel. He had possessed a temper 
which grew and blossomed in wild, luxuriance, and the 
probabilities are that he inoculated her ladyship with this 
peculiarity of spirit, for more than one of her domestics 
had been known to have declared that they would not live 
with the “ old devil ” any longer. 

This was very wicked, and the domestic young ladies 
who had made use of such expressions were much to be 
censured. But certain it was that the viscountess was 
far from perfect, and that she was an inveterate match- 
maker. 

Probably she was of opinion that it would be a pleasant 
little piece of revenge on human nature to inveigle as 
many of her sex as possible on to the stormy sea of matri- 
mony. At all events, a good many fashionable marriages 
resulted from plans laid by her ladyship and her female 
friends. 

Lady Littletown’s friends were many, and included Lady 
Millet, whom she always addressed as “ my dear,” in spite 
of a pique which had arisen consequent upon the latter 
marrying her eldest daughter to that wealthy parvenu , Mr. 
Frank Morrison. 

Now, according to Lady Littletown’s code, this was not 
correct. Dear friends as they had been, Lady Millet 
should have obtained her help, seeing that marriages were 
her metier ; but she had obstinately gone her own way, 
invited her to the wedding, and latterly had actually shown 
that she was scheming something about two gentlemen 
whom Lady Littletown had marked down for her own — to 
wit, Lord Henry Moorpark and Mr. Elbraham, the great 
financier. 

“ But, poor thing ! she did not know how to manage 
Elbraham,” said Lady Littletown to herself ; “ and as for 
dear Lord Henry, not if I know it, dearest. I think I can 
manage that, and you may marry pink-and-white wax-doll 
Gertrude to someone else. 

So her ladyship issued her cards most discriminatingly 
and well, in her determination to let no rival in her circle 
interfere with her rights as high-priestess of Hymen to her 
dearest friends. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


93 


Lady Littletown’s invitations on this occasion had in- 
cluded the Honorable Misses Dymcox and their nieces 
Clotilde and Marie Riversley ; and, like Cinderella of the 
story, Ruth had rather a hard time with her cousins. For, 
to the astonishment of the latter, a fashionable dressmaker 
had been down expressly from London, and their excite- 
ment over the handsome robes that had arrived knew no 
bounds. 

Their aunts had been a long time in making a move, and 
divers had been the consultations with Viscountess Little- 
town and Lady Anna Maria Morton. When at last that 
step was taken, it was with firmness and judgment com- 
bined. 

Poor Ruth was divided between longings to go to the 
dinner-party and admiration of her cousins’ appearance, 
which, when they stood at last dressed, an hour before the 
time, parading the shabby bed-room and sweeping the 
skimpy pieces of Kidderminster carpet here and there with 
their stiff trains, was dazzling. 

Certainly a handsomer pair of women rarely graced a 
party, and the Honorable Misses Dymcox, after a careful 
inspection through their square florid gold-edged eye- 
glasses, uttered sighs of satisfaction. 

For the modiste had done her duty well. The dresses 
were in the latest style, they fitted to perfection, and the 
girls’ youth and the luxuriance of their hair quite made up 
for the want of jewellery to enhance their charms. 

The Honorable Misses Dymcox were almost as excited 
as their nieces, for they, too, managed to get dressed an 
hour before time in their lavender silk straight-up-and-down 
garments, to which were tacked a few old pieces of very 
yellow lace, supposed to be an heirloom, bur certainly very 
unattractive, whatever it may have beeq, when young. 

A very weak cup of tea had been taken, the elder ladies 
being in fear and trembling all the while. 

“ No, no, children, wait ! ” exclaimed Miss Philippa. 
“ Joseph, put down the cups, and tell Markes to bring 
here two large pocket-handkerchiefs.” 

In due time Markes appeared. 

“ Now, children,” said Miss Philippa, “ stand up. 
Markes, have the goodness to tie a handkerchief by two 
of the corners just under the young ladies’ chins. It would 
-be ruin to those dresses if they spilt any of their tea.” 


94 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ If you please, aunt, I don’t want any tea,” said Clotilde. 

“ Neither do I, aunt,” said Marie. 

“ Hush, children ! You must take your tea. It is im- 
perative that you should enter Lady Littletown’s drawing- 
room calm, self-possessed, and without any sign of being 
flushed. Markes, tie on those handkerchiefs.” 

A red spot burned in the girls’ cheeks as they submitted 
to the childish indignity, and when they were duly provid- 
ed with their bibs they were allowed to drink their thin, 
washy, half-cold tea, exchanging glances the while, for their 
4 emancipation had not yet arrived. 

“ Ruth, ring the bell,” said Miss Philippa, as soon as 
the tea was finished, and the handkerchiefs, which had 
been rising and falling in a troubled fashion, had been re- 
moved. 

“ Take away these teacups, Joseph,” said Miss Philippa. 
“ Has the carriage arrived ? ” 

“ No, mum. It wants more than half an hour to the time. 
Buddy hasn’t been in yet.” 

“ Hush ! Silence ! ” cried Miss Philippa harshly ; “ and 
dear me, Joseph, there is a large place on the back of your 
head not powdered.” 

Joseph was heard to mutter something, and then he went 
forth in his best livery of pale blue with yellow facings and 
black knee-breeches, to finish his toilet for the night. 

“Oh, here you are, then,” exclaimed Joseph, upon 
reaching his pantry, a peculiarly close, stuffy little room, 
smelling very strongly of sink, and furnished with two cup- 
boards, a bracket flap, and what looked like a third 
detached cupboard, but which was really the turn-up bed- 
stead on which Joseph slept. 

“Yes, here I am, Joey,” said a husky-voiced little red- 
nosed man, with a very blotchy, pimply face, to wit, Isaac 
Buddy, the sole proprietor of a roomy old-fashioned Cla- 
rence fly, which was drawn by a very small shambling 
horse. 

This conveyance was Mr. Isaac Buddy’s means of liveli- 
hood, for it was to let, as his cards said, “ by the day, night 
or job,” and the hiring of Mr. Isaac Buddy’s fly meant not 
only, as a matter of course, the hire of the horse to draw 
it, but of Mr. Isaac Buddy himself. 

“ For, out of deference to the feelings and aristocratic 
ideas of certain of the ladies residing in the private apart- 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


95 


ments, Mr. Buddy had become an actor, who played many 
parts, and though the fiction was perfectly well understood 
nobody ever thought of smiling if they saw Mr. Isaac 
Buddy in a hat with a tarnished gold band on Mondays as 
Lady Anna Maria Morton’s coachman, or in a hat with a 
silver band on Tuesday, as Miss Tees’, or on Wednesday 
in a very hard shiny glazed hat without any nap, as Mrs. 
Mongloff’s, or on other days in costumes to suit. 

The Clarence fly of course remained the same, but it 
was always disguised in a more sounding name, and became 
“ the carriage.” 

“ There ain’t a drop o’ nothing about handy, is there, 
Joey ? ” said Mr. Buddy, as the thin footman set the tray 
down upon the bracket-flap. 

“ No, that there ain’t,” said Joseph, “ without you’d like 
the pot filled up and have a cup of tea.” 

“ G’orn with yer. Did you ever know me wash myself 
out with warm water. How’s the old gals ? u 

“ Old style,” replied Joseph ; “ but I say, Buddy, just 
east your eye round as they’re getting in : the young ladies 
have been done up to rights.” 

“ I wish someone would find the money to get my old 
fly done up to rights,” said Mr. Buddy who, apparently 
quite at home, was standing before a shaving-glass hung 
against the wall persuading, with Joseph’s brush, a couple 
of very obstinate little whiskers to stand out straight for- 
ward in the direction their owner wished. “ ’Spose there’ll 
be a wedding, then, some day.” 

“ Well, I dunno,” said Joseph. 

“ Looks like it, if they’re having ’em fresh painted,” said 
Mr. Buddy, who now touched up his very greasy gray hair, 
making it stick up in points, in unconscious imitation of 
that of a clown. 

“ Here, you’d better look sharp, old man,” said Joseph, 
“ they’re all ready and waiting, and time’s getting on.” 

“ Which we ain’t, Joey, or we should be doing better than 
we are, eh ? ” 

“ Ah, we should,” said Joseph, making a powder-box 
squeak as he unscrewed the top ; and then taking out the 
puff, he placed a tea-cloth over his shoulders, and gave 
his hair a few dabs. “ Now then, old man. Have the 
tea-cloth on ? ” 

“Ah, you may as well,” was the reply; and the cloth 
having been adjusted by Joseph, the little man stood blink- 


96 


A DOUBLE KNOT \ 


ing solemnly while his dingy hair was duly powdered and 
turned white. 

“ Why, you might stand a bit o’ wilet powder comp’ny 
nights, Joey,” said the flyman, solemnly removing a little 
white meal from among the ruddy pimples of his face with 
the corner of the cloth in regular use for wiping the tea 
and breakfast service. 

“ How am I to stand oest vi’let powder out o’ what they 
allow ?” replied Joseph. “Flour’s just as good, and don’t 
cost me nothing. Now then, look sharp.” 

As he spoke Joseph pulled open a drawer, from which 
he drew a drab great coat, inside which the little man 
placed himself, for it was manifestly so much too large that 
he could hardly be said to have put it on. Then a blue 
hat-box was pushed off the top of one of the cupboards, out 
of which a rather ancient hat was extricated, and mounted 
by the flyman, whose head seemed to have become sud- 
denly wonderfully small ; for it was an imposing structure 
of beaver with very curly brims, apparently kept from com- 
ing uncurled by a rigging or series of stays of tarnished 
silver cord, which ran from the lining up to a Panjandrum- 
like round button at the top, also of tarnished silver ; while 
a formidable-looking and very spiky black cockade rose 
something like a patent ventilator from one side. 

“That’s about the ticket, ain’t it, Joey? ” said the little 
man, shaking his head so as to get the big hat in a good 
state of balance, and buttoning himself to the chin. 

“ Yes, that will do, old man.” 

“ The ladies want to know if the carriage has come, 
Joseph,” said Markes, suddenly making her appearance. 

“ Which you may take your solemn oath it ain’t,” said 
Mr. Buddy, “ for not one inch will that there horse stir 
till I wakes him up.” 

“ Then do for goodness’ sake, man, look sharp and fetch 
it,” exclaimed Markes. “I’m sure it’s past the time !” 

“Wants five minutes,” said Mr. Buddy, nodding his 
head, and having to dart one hand up to save the hat, which 
came down over his nose, and would have continued its 
course to the floor. “ I say, your old coachman must 
have had a head like a bull, to have worn that hat without 
stuffing. There, I’m off. Soon be back. I say, though,” 
he whispered, thrusting back his head, and this time hold- 
ing on by the rigging of the hat, “ if it comes to a wedding 
the old gals ought to stand some new togs.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


97 


Within a quarter of an hour Mr. Isaac Buddy, who had 
entered the private apartments as flyman, and came out 
the Honorable Misses Dymcox’s coachman, was at the 
door with the transformed fly. The ladies were duly 
packed inside with many tremors as to their dresses, and 
Joseph, also in a drab greatcoat and a fearful and wonder- 
ful hat — the twin-brother of that upon Mr. Buddy’s head — 
mounted to the seat. Then the carriage jingled and jangled 
off — a dashing brougham and pair, with flashing lights and 
the windows down, rattling by them, making Buddy’s 
nervous nag shy to the near side, as if he meant to mount 
the sidewalk out of the way. 

“ Rie,” whispered Clotilde, with her ruddy lips touching 
her sister’s ear. 

“ Yes.’' 

“ That funny little officer was inside.” 

“ Yes,” muttered Marie to herself, “ and the tall one as 
well ; and you know it. I wonder who they are ? ” 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE SLAVE OF FORTUNE. 

u I say, look here ! You know, Litton, I’m the last man 
on earth to complain; but you know, d — n it, you don’t 
do your duty by me.” 

“ You don’t give me credit for what I do do, Elbraham, 
'pon my soul you don’t ! ” said the gentleman addressed — 
a rather fashionably-dressed, stylish young fellow of eight- 
and-twenty or thirty, whose hair was closely cropped in the 
latest style, his well-worn clothes scrupulously brushed, 
and his hands particularly white. 

As he answered he screwed his glass very tightly into 
his eyes and gazed at the first speaker— a little pudgy, 
high-shouldered man, with a very short neck and a very 
round head, slightly bald. He was carefully dressed, and 
a marked point in his attire was the utter absence of every 
thing in the shape of jewellery or ornament. His fat white 
hands did not display so much as a ring ; and though a 
slight prominence in his vest proclaimed the presence of a 
watch, it was attached to his person by a guard of the 


9 8 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


finest black silk. His countenance, however, did not match 
with the refinement of his attire, for it betrayed high living 
and sensual indulgence. There was an unpleasant look, 
too, about his eyes ; and if to the least cultured person he 
had asserted in the most emphatic manner that he was 
a gentleman, it would not have been believed. 

But, all the same, he was a man of mark, for this was 
Samuel Elbraham, the financier, the man who was reputed 
to have made hundreds of thousands by his connection 
with the Khedive. Men in society and on ’Change joked 
about Elbraham, and said that he was a child of Israel, who 
went down into Egypt and spoiled the Egyptians for 
everybody’s buying but his own. They called him Potiphar 
too, and made it a subject of jest that there was no Poti- 
phar’s wife ; but they also said that it did not matter, for 
these were days when people had arisen who knew not 
Joseph. 

Then they laughed, and wondered whether Potiphar of 
old went in for a theatre, and supplied rare subsidies of 
hard cash to a manager, and was very fond of taking par- 
ties of friends to his private-box to witness the last new 
extravaganza, after the said friends had dined with him 
and drunk his champagne. 

Somehow or other, it was the friends who ate his dinners 
and drank his champagne that made the most jokes about 
him ; but though these witticisms, real or would be, came 
round to him at times, they troubled him very little. 

The conversation above commenced took place in Mr. 
Elbraham’s library at the riverside residence at Twicken- 
ham, the handsomely-furnished place that he, the 
celebrated converted Israelite, had taken of Lord Wash- 
ingtower, when a long course of ill-luck on the turf had 
ended in nearly placing his lordship under the turf, for 
rumor said that his terrible illness was the result of an 
attempt to rid himself of his woes by a strong dose of a 
patent sedative medicine. 

As Mr. Elbraham spoke he hitched up his shoulders, 
thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked up and down 
in front of the books he never read. 

“ Not give you credit for what you do ? ” he retorted. 
{i Why, what do you mean ? ” 

“ Don’t talk to me like that, Elbraham, please. I’m not 
your servant.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


99 


“ Hang it all, then, what the devil are you ? I pay you 
regular wages.” 

“ No. Stop, please. I accept a regulated stipend from 
you, Elbraham.” 

“ Oh, very good ! let’s have it like that, then, Mr. Rar- 
thur Litton. I took you up, same as I did your bills, when 
you were so hard hit that you didn’t know where to go for 
a fiver. You made certain proposals and promises to me, 
and, I ask you, what have you done ? ” 

“ More than you give me credit for,” was the reply, 
rather sullenly made. 

“ You dine with me, you sleep here, and make this place 
your home whenever you like ; and when I look for your 
help, as I expected, I find that your name is in the papers 
as the secretary to some confounded Small Fish Protection 
Society, or as managing director of the Anti-Soap and Soda 
Laundry Company.” 

“ I’m sure I ve done my duty by you, Mr. Elbraham,” 
said the young man hotly. “ If you want to quarrel and 
get rid of me say so.” 

“I don’t want to quarrel, and I don’t mean to quarrel, 
Mr. Ratthur Litton. I made a bargain with you, and I 
mean to keep you to it. You boasted to me of your high 
connections and your eiitree into good society, and under- 
took to introduce me into some of the best families, so that 
I might take the position that my wealth enables me to 
hold. Now, then, please, have I paid up like a man?” 

“Yes; you have,” was the sulky response. 

“ And you’ve taken jolly good care to draw more than 
was your due. Now, what have you done ? ” 

“ Well, I taught you to dress like something different to 
a cad.” 

“ Humph ! You did knock off my studs and rings and 
things.” 

“ And I’ve dined with you till I’ve got you to be fit to 
eat your meals in a Christianlike manner.” 

“ Look here, Mr. Rarthur, sir,” said Elbraham hotly, “ is 
that meant as a sneer ? ” 

“ No ; of course not.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ Then I wanted time to get these things in proper 
course. Well, come now, I did get you the invitation to 
Lady Littletown’s.” 


IOO 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“Yes; to a beggarly dinner with an old woman at 
Hampton. Are you going to dine there ? ” 

“ I ? No ! I come in afterwards at the 1 at home.’ ” 

“Ah! I wanted to talk to you about that affair to-night. 
You promised without my consent.” 

“ Of course I did. It was a great chance.” 

“ A great chance ? ” 

“Of course. You don’t know how big a thing it is to 
be.” 

“Bah ! stuff! rubbish ! A feed given to all the old pen- 
sioned tabbies at Hampton Court.” 

“ Don’t you make any mistake, sir. There’ll be some 
big people there.” 

“ Big ! Why, I could buy up dozens of them.” 

“ Their incomes, perhaps, Mr. Elbraham, but not tneir 
position and their entree to good society. Sir, you could 
not even buy mine.” 

“ But I could your bills,” said the other, with a grin. 

“ And hold them over me, you wretched little cad ! ” said 
the young man to himself. Then aloud : 

“ I can assure you, Mr. Elbraham, that this dinner will 
give you the step you wanted. Lady Littletown stands 
very high in society. The Duchess of Redesby will be 
there, and Lord Henry Moorpark.” 

“ What ! old Apricot — old yellow and ripe ! ” said Elbra- 
ham with a chuckle. 

“ Lord Henry Moorpark is a thorough specimen of an 
English nobleman, Mr. Elbraham,” said the secretary 
stiffly ; “ and I consider that if the only thing I had done 
was to gain you an introduction to him, I should have 
earned all the wages, as you call them, that you have con- 
descended to pay me.” 

“ Yes, of course — yes, to be sure. There, there, don’t 
be so hot and peppery, Litton. I’m a bit put out this 
morning. By the way, would you have the brougham and 
pair or one horse ? ” 

“ Pair, decidedly,” said the young man. 

“You’ll not go with me.” 

“ No ; I come afterwards. You shall bring me back if 
you will.” 

“ Yes ; of course. I’ll put some cigars in the pocket. 
Would you wear the diamond studs ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


IOI 


<{ No. Not a ring, even. Go in black, and hardly speak 
a word. Do nothing but look the millionaire. The simpler 
you dress, my dear sir, the richer they will think you.” 

“ My dear Litton, you’re a treasure — damme, that you 
are, sir ! I say, look here : you don’t happen to want five, 
or ten, or twenty this morning, do you ? ” 

Mr. Arthur Litton did happen to want twenty, not five 
or ten ; and a couple of crisp notes were thrust into his 
hand. 

“ Well, I suppose it’s all right, Litton. I shall look out 
for you there, then ; but it’s a deuce of a way to go.” 

“ It’s worth going to, if it were double the distance, I 
can assure you. You have money; you want position.” 

“ All right, then ; that’s settled. I’m going to the city 
now. Are you going in ? ” 

“ No, thanks ; I shall sit down and do a little writing.” 

“Very good ; you’ll find the cigars on the shelf.” 

“ What, those cigars ? ” He spoke with a slight emphasis 
on the “those.” “No, thanks; they have too strong a 
flavor of a hundred-pound bill.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Forty pounds in cash, forty in old pale East India 
sherry, and twenty in weeds.” 

“You’re an artful one, you are, Litton — ’pon my soul 
you are. Deuced artful,” said Mr. Elbraham, with a 
curious puckering about the corners of his eyes, intended 
to do duty for a smile. “ But that reminds me, Huish’s 
bill falls due to-morrow — hundred pounds ; mustn’t forget 
that. Here, pull out your case.” 

He unlocked a little cabinet with a tiny key, and opened 
two or three drawers full of cigars, each with a paper band 
round its middle. 

“ Which is it to be? ” 

The young man smiled, and filled his case, selecting one 
as well for present smoking. The cabinet was reclosed ; 
there was an interchange of nods ; Elbraham went off to 
the station ; Litton sat down and wrote a letter, after which 
he made a little study of a time-table, hurried off, and, 
catching a train, was soon after on his way to Hampton, 
where he was just in time to catch Lady Littletown enter- 
ing her carriage for a drive. 

“ Ah, mon cher Arthur ! ” she exclaimed ; “ you nearly 
missed me. There, come in, and I’ll take you part of your 
way back.” 


102 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Litton mounted beside her ladyship, and took his seat 
as invited. 

“ Drive slowly,” cried her ladyship ; and as the hand- 
some barouche, with its well-appointed pair of bays, went 
gaily along the pleasant river-side road towards the Palace, 
Lady Littletown turned her sharp dark eyes searchingly 
upon her companion. 

She was one of those elderly ladies upon whom the effect 
of time seems to be that of making them sharper and pos- 
sessed of a kneener interest in worldly matters, and one ill 
whose aquiline features there was ample promise of her 
proving to be a most implacable enemy if offended. Too 
cautious to allow her heart to be stirred by instincts of an 
amatory nature, she had found consolation in looking after 
the matrimonial business of others; and hence her interest 
in her companion of the hour. 

“ Well ? ” she said sharply ; “ what news ? ” 

“ I’ve fixed him for certain. He would have backed 
out, but for a bit of a chat this morning.” 

“ Then the nasty, scaly, slippery gold-fish will really 
come ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Not disappoint me as he did Judy Millet ? ” 

“ You may depend upon him this time.” 

“ Good boy, good boy. Now, look here, Arthur ; you 
are behaving very well over this, and if the affair comes off 
as I wish, and you behave very nicely, Til see next what I 
can do by way of finding you a wife with a snug fortune ; 
only you must not be too particular about her looks.” 

“ I leave myself in your ladyship’s hands.” 

“ There, now you may get down. I’m going to make two 
or three calls in the Palace.” 

“ One moment, Lady Littletown,” said Litton eagerly; 
“ I’m just starting a society for the preservation of ancient 
trees, and old ” 

“ Now, mon cher , that will do,” said the old lady deci- 
dedly. “ You know I never give money or ” 

“ I only ask for your name as a patroness or supporter.” 

“ And von will not have it ; so now be a good boy, and 
go. I’ve got your name down upon my tablets, Arthur, so 
wait your time. Stop ! ” 

The horses were checked ; the footman descended and 
opened the door, rattling the steps loudly ; Arthur Litton 


A DOUBLE KNOT, \ 


103 


leaped out, raised his hat : Lady Littletown kissed the tips 
of her gloved fingers to him, and the carriage passed on. 

“ I wonder whether she will,” said the young man, as he 
walked towards the station. “ However, we shall see.” 


CHAPTER X. 

A DINNER FOR AN END. 

“ My income, my dears, just suffices for my wants,” said 
Lady Littletown : “ and I have never anything to spare for 
charities and that sort of thing.” 

So said her ladyship to her aristocratic friends living in 
pinched circumstances in the private apartments ; and it 
may or may not have been intended for a hint not to try 
and borrow money. 

“ One would like to be charitable and to give largely, 
but what with one’s household expenses and the horses 
and carriages, and my month in town in the height of the 
season, I really sometimes find myself obliged to ask his 
lordship’s agent for a few hundreds in advance of the time 
when the rents are due. But then, you see, one owes so 
much to one’s position.” 

The Honorable Misses Dymcox said one certainly did ; 
Lady Anna Maria Morton, who had been longing for a new 
silk evening dress for three years, said the same ; and, 
thoroughly feeling it to be a fact, Lady Littletown tried to 
pay honorably what she owed to society by rigidly living 
up to the last penny of her fairly handsome income in the 
pleasant mansion near Hampton Church. 

She gave about four dinner-parties in the course of the 
year, and afterwards received. 

This was one of her special parties for a special purpose, 
and when the last of her fifteen guests had arrived and been 
looked at through her great gold eyeglass held with the 
left hand, while the tips of the fingers of the right were 
given in assurance of her being “ so delighted,” her lady- 
ship proceeded to marshal her forces for the procession to 
the dining-room. 

“ Here’s what it is to be a lone widow ! ” she exclaimed 
playfully. “ Moorpark, might I ask you to take the foot 
of the table ? — Miss Marie Riversley.” 


104 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Lord Henry had murmured to himself a good deal about 
being dragged down all the way from St. James’ Square to 
Hampton just at a time when his heart told him that he 
ought to be married, and though terribly dissatisfied with 
the success which had attended his attentions to Gertrude 
Millet, his brain was full of her bright, refined features. He, 
however, now advanced, quite the handsome, stately gentle- 
man, with a pleasant, benevolent look upon his thin face, 
and at once entered into conversation with the dark beauty 
to whom he had been introduced. 

“ Mr. Elbraham,” continued Lady Littletown, in a con- 
fidential whisper, as she inspected him as if he were for 
sale, “ would you oblige me ? — Miss Dymcox’s niece.” 

The reputed millionaire started, and a scowl began to dawn 
in his face, for the name Dymcox brought up the faces of 
the honorable sisters ; but as he was led to dark, glowing, 
southern-faced Clotilde, the scowl reached no farther than 
its dawn, and the ruddy sun of his coarse round face rose 
out of the fog, and beamed its satisfaction upon the hand- 
some girl. 

“ Oh, I say, Glen, what a shame ! ” whispered little Dick 
Millet to his chosen companion, who, consequent upon 
his being an officer and the friend of dear Lady Millet’s 
son, had been invited, like his major, to the feast. 

Dick began grinding his white teeth in the corner, where 
he had been making eyes at Clotilde and Marie in turn, 
whichever looked in his direction ; and for the moment he 
seemed as if he were going to tear either his curly hair or 
the dainty exotic from his button-hole. 

“ Hush ! be quiet,” was the reply. 

“ Hurrah ! viva ! ” whispered Dick again. “ The Black 
Douglas is being tacked on to that old scrag.” 

“ That old scrag” was the Honorable Philippa Dymcox, 
and “ the Black Douglas ” Major Edward Malpas, who, 
probably from disappointment in connection with a late 
marriage, was contemplatively watching Clotilde ; but his 
courtesy was perfect as he bent toward the Honorable 
Philippa. 

“ Now there’s that other old she-dragon, Glen,” whis- 
pered Dick. “ Oh, I say, it’s too bad of the old woman ! 
I won’t, that I won’t. I didn’t come here to be 
treated so, and if she says I’m to march in that dreadful 
skeleton I’ll be taken ill and make a bolt of it. I say, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


I0 5 

Marcus,” he continued, “ my nose is going to bleed ; ” and 
as he spoke he took out his delicately-scented pocket-hand- 
kerchief. 

“ Captain Glen, will you take in the Honorable Isabella 
Dymcox ? ” said Lady Littletown, showing just a trifle of 
gold setting as she smiled. 

Marcus Glen told the truth when he said he would be 
most happy, for he recognized in the lady of the old- 
fashioned lavender poplin one of the companions of 
Clotilde and Marie in their walk in the Palace gardens. 

Dick Millet thrust his scented cambric back into the 
pocket of his silk-lined coat, and after a glance at the 
ladies, either of whom he longed to take into dinner, he 
had a look round the room to see which would be the most 
eligible dinner-table companion of those that were left ; 
but to his disgust he began to find that he was being left 
entirely in the cold, for the hostess, with all the skill of 
one who has well made her plans beforehand, was rapidly 
finishing her arrangements. 

“ It’s enough to make any man’s nose bleed, and compel 
him to bolt,” muttered the handsome little fellow, who had 
got himself up in the most irreproachable manner, having 
even been to town that afternoon on purpose to place him- 
self in a hairdresser’s hands. 

“ Hang it all ! am I nobody ? ” 

It was hard work getting hold of the ends, but Dick 
managed to give a vicious twist to his delicate floss silk 
moustache, and he was contemplating a fresh appeal to his 
scented handkerchief and making the threatened bolt, as 
he termed it, with the cambric held to his nose, when 
Lady Littletown approached. 

“ Now, my dearest Richard,” she exclaimed, and her 
many years, the speck of gold near one top tooth, the 
wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and the suggestions of 
untruthfulness about her hair, all seemed to be softened 
down and seen through an eyeglass tinted a la rose , “ I’m 
a very covetous person, and I always make a point, like 
the wicked old widow I am, of reserving the most beau 
chevalier for myself. Now you have to take me in, we two 
last ; and you’ll be obliged to help me out of my difficulties 
if there is anything to carve.” 

Dick colored a little with pride. 

“ And we, too, must have a pleasant chat about mamma 
and the dear girls ; and, oh, I am so glad you took to the 


lo6 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


army and are quartered down here. It will be so pleasant 
for me ; but I shall, for mamma’s sake, watch all your 
doings. I am not going to have you turn out a roue like 
your wicked major. Come along.” 

So Dick took in her ladyship, feeling taller, and actually 
seeming to swell a little as he found himself seated at his 
hostess’ right hand. Then, the places being found, every 
guest’s name neatly written on a porcelain menu , Lord 
Henry, at the foot of the table, closed his eyes, bent for- 
ward, and in a low, reverent voice said grace, to which Mr. 
Elbraham added a very audible “ Amen ! ” and the dinner 
commenced. 

Of course it was all by way of paying her dues to society 
that things were done so well, for certainly the dinner was 
as exquisite as the table itself, with its decorations of plate 
and glass, amidst which, half hidden in almost a redun- 
dancy of exotic flowers, was a thoroughly choice dessert. 
Richard Millet, who rather trembled in the midst of his 
pride, and had twice in imagination seen wings of chicken, 
as he dismembered a bird, flying in a cloud of brown sauce 
into people’s laps, was spared all trouble, for the viands 
were served a la Russe , and were perfect of their kind. 

“ I’m deuced glad I came,” thought Mr. Elbraham, as the 
choice, well-iced wines reached him in turn, and after 
several rather awkward attempts at conversation with 
Clotilde, he found himself getting on much better. For 
his companion, in spite of her delight at being present at 
such a party, and having been affectionately kissed by 
Lady Littletown, and called “ my dearest child,” was 
disappointed because Captain Glen had not spoken to her, 
neither had he been chosen to take her in to dinner. But, 
then, he had looked at her — looked at her several times. 
He admired her. There was no doubt about that. His 
looks said so plainly : and, for her part, there was some- 
thing very pleasant to her eyes in the well-built, manly 
fellow, with his easy, indifferent ways and his gentlemanly, 
chivalrous attention to her aunt ; who, poor soul ! was 
nervous, and fluttered with the unusual excitement. 

“ I don’t like him ; he’s a dreadful creature,” said Clo- 
tilde to herself, as her companion grew more at home, and, 
after a glass or two of a very choice champagne of unusual 
potency, began to talk to her in a fashion somewhat sug- 
gestive of his style at a private supper at the Rantan or at 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


107 


Letellier’s, and ladies who were in the habit of performing 
show parts in public were present. 

“ I’m deuced glad I came. She’s a devilish handsome 
girl, and I like her,” thought Mr. Elbraham, and during 
his next remark, of course inadvertently, his coat-sleeve 
touched Clotilde’s white, well-rounded arm. 

“ And so you lead a very quiet, very retired life,” said 
Lord Henry to Marie, as, scarcely partaking of anything 
himself, he chivalrously devoted his attention to his com- 
panion, enjoying her evident delight and hearty young 
appetite, which as a rule was none too well satisfied. 

She, too, had been, in the midst of her delight in her 
charming dress, the reflection of her handsome self in 
Lady Littletown’s mirror, that lady’s affectionate greeting, 
and the brilliant dinner-table, rather disappointed that she 
had not been taken in by Captain Glen, or that dark hand- 
some major, or even by the funny pretty little page style 
of officer ; but by degrees that wore off, and she listened 
with real pleasure to Lord Henry’s words. 

He was quite an elderly gentleman, but, then, he was a 
nobleman, with a truer feeling of admiration for the beau- 
tiful woman he had been called upon to escort. There was 
something delightfully new, too, in her ways. She was 
very different to the society young ladies he was accus- 
tomed to meet, all gush and strained style of conversation. 
Marie was as if fresh from a convent, and he was even 
amused with some of her naive remarks. 

The Honorable Misses Dymcox had given their nieces 
the most stringent instructions upon etiquette ; above all, 
they were not to taste wine ; but while Marie was answer- 
ing a remark made by Lord Henry, one of the servants 
filled that faintly prismatic glass, like ha]/ a soap-bubble in 
its beauty, and from old habit Marie lifted the drinking 
vessel by her hand, tasted, found the clear sparkling wine 
delicious, and had sipped again and again. 

The effect was trifling, but it did remove some of her 
diffidence, and she found herself chatting willingly enough 
to her cavalier. 

“ Oh yes ; a very, very retired life. We spend most of 
our time in the schoolroom, and when we take walks it is 
in the gardens or in the park with our aunts, at times when 
none of the London people are down.” 

“ Have you been on the Continent ? ” 


io8 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Oh no,” replied Marie, “ not since Mr. Montaigne 
brought us over to the Palace ? ” 

“ May I ask who is Mr. Montaigne ? ” 

“ He was a very old friend of poor mamma’s.” 

“ Poor mamma? ” said Lord Henry inquiringly. 

“ Oh yes ; poor mamma and papa died when we were 
very little girls, and we have been with our aunts ever 
since.” 

Lord Henry sipped his wine, gazed sidewise at his 
beautiful companion, and sighed. He thought of Gertrude 
Millet, and let his eye rest from time to time upon her 
brother, vainly trying to trace a resemblance, and also that 
though Lady Millet had undoubtedly seemed pleased by 
his advances, Gertrude had been chilling, and Marie 
Dymcox was not. 

Possibly, too, as the old man sighed, he thought that he 
had no time to lose now that he had been thinking that he 
would marry, and he sighed again as if in regret of some- 
thing he had lost, something he might have had, but had 
been too careless or indifferent to win. 

A close observer would have noticed that there were 
tears in his eyes just then. Lady Littletown was a close 
observer, and by the aid of her eyeglass she did notice it, 
and secretly hugged herself. 

“ But you go out a good deal — to parties, to concerts, or 
balls?” 

“ Oh no ! ” laughed Marie, and her white teeth showed 
beneath her coral lips, while Major Malpas, who was 
nearly opposite, looked at her intently from beneath his 
heavy eyelids, and softly stroked his moustache. “ I was 
never at a party before.” 

“ And do you like it ? ” said Lord Henry, beaming upon 
her, as, with a secret kind of satisfaction, he quietly 
admired the animated countenance beside him. 

“ Oh yes, yes,” she said softly. . “ I can’t help liking it 
very much.” 

“ Well,” said Lord Henry, smiling in quite a pleased 
manner, “ why should you help liking it ? ” 

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully; “only we are 
always so quiet at the Palace, and aunts have often said 
that too much gaiety was bad.” 

“Too much, my dear child. Yes, certainly; but a little 
is very pleasurable, and innocent, and good.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


109 


Marie’s eyes, as they met his, said that they were 
delighted to hear it, and as she sat and let the quiet, 
chivalrous old gentleman draw her out, no one would have 
credited her with being one of the heroines of some of the 
school-room scenes in which poor little Ruth had been the 
victim. 

Lord Henry Moorpark grew more and more thoughtful 
as he chatted on with his companion. There was some- 
thing inexpressibly refreshing in Marie’s words and ways, 
and he, too, congratulated himself upon the dinner-party, 
which he had looked upon as a nuisance, and to which he 
had come solely out of respect for Lady Littletown, turning 
out so pleasurable and fresh. 

He was not the only elderly guest who thoroughly 
enjoyed the dinner, for the Honorable Isabella Dymcox 
partook of her share of the coursesin a state of, for her, 
unwonted flutter. In accordance with the plotting and 
planning that had been at work in the Palace coterie, she 
had come fully prepared to give a furtive observation to 
what was going on with Clotilde and Marie, the children 
who, with her sister, she was fain to confess had arrived at 
a marriageable age ; but from the moment she had laid her 
tremulous hand upon Marcus Glen’s arm, and had been 
led by him to her seat, her nieces had been forgotten. 

Certainly Glen had several times over exchanged glances 
with Clotilde, and taken notice of the fact that Elbraham 
was growing more and more familiar and loud ; but all the 
same he had found ample time to devote himself with a 
good deal of assiduity to Miss Isabella, making her at first 
surprised and cold, soon after pleased and full of agreeable 
thoughts, and at last thoroughly gratified at the way in 
which her companion attended to her lightest wishes and 
conversed upon society at Hampton Court. 

“ I — I won’t be so foolish as to think he means anything,” 
said Miss Isabella to herself ; “ for he is quite young and 
manly-looking, almost handsome, while I am getting very 
old indeed, and all hope of that is past ; but he is very 
nice and gentlemanly, and so very different to officers as a 
rule. I must say I like him very much.” 

She showed, too, that she did as soon as the cold formal 
crust had been melted away, and Marcus was not slow to 
realize the fact. 

He was perfectly honest, for he knew that the Honorable 
Isabella was the aunt of Clotilde, and being as impression- 


no 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


able as most young men of his age, he had felt to some ex- 
tent the power of that lady’s eyes. Under the circumstances, 
as he had been thrown with the relative, he had thought it 
fair campaigning to make friends with her, and this he had 
done to such an extent that the attentions she had received, 
and a glass or two of wine, made the lady very communica- 
tive, and far happier than her sister, who found the dinner 
much less to her taste. 

For Major Malpas was not best pleased at having to 
take her in, and he had confined himself to the most frigid 
civilities. He was perfectly gentlemanly, but as the dinner 
wore on he grew more polite, and by consequence the 
Honorable Philippa became icy in her manner, till at last 
she seemed to be frozen stiff. 

“ Humph ! ” he thought, “ better have gone and sat with 
Renee Morrison. Yes,” he continued, staring hard at 
Dick, “ your sister, my half-fledged cockerel.” 

The other guests merely formed chorus to the principal 
singers in the little social opera, but they were wonderfully 
led by Lady Littlelown, whose tongue formed her con- 
ductor’s baton, by which she swayed them with a practised 
ease. 

She had a word in season for everyone where it was 
needful to keep up the balance of the parts, and wonder- 
fully skilful was her way. She gave a great deal of her time 
to everybody, but little Richard Millet never missed any of 
her attentions. In a very short time she had quite won his 
confidence, and knew that Major Malpas was a regular 
plunger, that Captain Glen was the dearest and best fellow 
in the world, that he hadn’t any more vice in him than a 
child, that they were the dearest of friends, and that Marcus 
had only about two hundred and fifty a year besides his 
pay. 

“ I begin to like Hampton Court, Lady Littletown,” said 
the boy warmly, for the champagne had been frequent. 

“ I’m sure you’ll love the place when you begin to know 
us better. Of course you will come to all my ' at homes ? ’ ” 

“ That I will,” exclaimed the delighted youth. “ Bv the 
way, Lady Littletown, what lovely girls those Miss Dym- 
coxes are ! ” 

u Yes, are they not? ” replied Lady Littletown ; “ but 
oh, fie, fie, fie ! This will not do. I will not listen to a 
single word. I’m not going to lend myself to any match- 
making. What would Lady Millet say ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Ill 


u But, really, Lady Littletown— — ” 

“ Oh dear me, no ; I will not listen. I know too well, 
sir, what your officers are — so wicked and reckless, and 
given to breaking ladies’ hearts. I think I shall absolutely 
forbid you even approaching them when you come up to 
the drawing-room. I would not for the world be the means 
of causing any heart diseases amongst my guests.” 

“ But surely, Lady Littletown, a fellow may admire at a 
distance ? ” 

“ Oh dear no,” said her ladyship playfully ; “ I think 
not. I’m afraid you are a very bad, dangerous man, and 
I shall have to withdraw my invitation.” 

Dick Millet pleaded ; the invitation was not withdrawn ; 
and the little fellow was better satisfied with himself than 
he had felt for months. 

“ It’s an uncommonly well got-up affair, after all,” he 
thought ; “ but I wish the ladies would go now. I want 
to get the wine over, and go up to the drawing-room.” 

To the little fellow’s satisfaction the long-drawn-out repast 
did come to an end, that cleverly-managed signal was given 
which acts electrically at a certain stage of a dinner ; the 
ladies rose, and in place of one of the younger gentlemen 
opening the door, Lord Henry performed that duty, a 
genial but half-sad smile playing about his thin, closely- 
shaven lips, as Marie looked up in his face in passing. 
Then the last lady went out, and the gentleman closed up 
to their coffee and wine. 

Somehow or other, Marcus Glen found himself now near 
Lord Henry, and while a knot of listeners heard Mr. El- 
braham’s opinion upon the Eastern Question, especially 
with regard to the new Sultan and the position of Egypt, 
the young officer entered into a quiet discussion upon the 
history of the old Palace, and was surprised and pleased 
to find how much his companion knew of the past days of 
the old red-brick building, but above all at the genial, win- 
ning manner the old gentleman possessed. 

Acting the part of host now for the time being, he soon 
proposed that they should adjourn, for there was a strange 
longing within him to be within sight and hearing of 
Marie. 

“ Ah, to be sure,” said Elbraham ; “ if I wanted to invest, 
gentlemen, I should say Egyptian bonds. By all means, 
let’s join the ladies.” 


1 12 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


He, too, had come to the conclusion that he should like 
“ another talk to that girl.” But the drawing-room was 
filling fast, and there was no more tete-a-tetes. Arthur 
Litton arrived soon after ten, and his chief approached him 
to shake hands, as if they had not met for some time. 

“ Well ? ” said Litton. 

“ Stunning, sir, stunning ! ’Bove par.” 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ Deuced good dinner, Litton, ’pon my soul. People 
not half so snobbish as I expected to find them. I say, 
look here. What do you think of that piece of goods? ” 

He indicated Clotilde, about whom Dick Millet was 
now hovering ; but who had turned from him to listen to a 
remark just made by Glen. 

“ Hum, ha ! ” said Litton critically. “ Oh, that’s one of 
the Dymcox girls, isn’t it ? ” 

“ I didn’t ask you anything about who she is ; I said 
what do you think of her? ” 

“ Not bad-looking, I should say,” replied Litton coolly ; 
“ but nothing particular.” 

“ Oh, you be blowed ! ” said the great financier, and he 
screwed his short thick neck down a little lower into his 
chest, and turned away. 

“ Well, Lady Littletown, how do matters make them- 
selves ? ” said Litton quietly, when, after a time, her lady- 
ship passed his way. 

“ Oh, Arturo , mio caro ,” said her ladyship, tickling the 
centre stud in his shirt-front with the end of her closed 
fan. “ Marcivigliosamente . My dear boy, it is wonder- 
ful. You shall have a rich wife, Arthur, if you are good, 
and this affair is un fait accompli .” 

“ Why didn’t you try a bit of German, too? ” muttered 
Litton, as her ladyship passed on. “ Here, I must get on 
with some of these officers ; perhaps they’d take me to 
their quarters, and give me a smoke and an S. and B. 
Hang this tea ! I forgot, though, I promised Potiphar to 
go home with him. Hang the beast ! but it will save me 
a fare.” 

Everyone was delighted. Lady Littletown was charmed 
over and over again, but when at last an obsequious foot- 
man, who seemed to be shod with velvet, whispered to the 
Honorable Philippa that her carriage had arrived, that 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


IT 3 

lady, who felt very tired and sleepy, said mentallv “ Thank 
goodness ! ” 

But it was naif an hour later before she made a move, 
and the drawing-rooms were growing unbearably hot with 
the chattering, buzzing crowd. 

Suddenly there was silence, as the Honorable Misses 
Dymcox rose to go. 

Lady Littletown was so sorry the evening had been so 
short, but she managed to exchange meaning looks. 

“ I think, yes,” she whispered ; and the Honorable 
Philippa nodded and tightened her lips. 

“ Good-night, my sweet darling,” said Lady Littletown, 
kissing Clotilde affectionately, “ Mind you come and see 
me soon. Good-night, dearest Marie. How well you 
look to-night, child ! ” 

Then her ladyship saw through her square eyeglass, with 
the broad chased gold rim, Elbraham, podgy, stout and 
puffy, take Clotilde down to the carriage, followed by Lord 
Henry with Marie, and Captain Glen with the Honorable 
Isabella, and little Richard Millet with the Honorable 
Philippa ; everyone but Joseph being perfectly ignorant of 
the fact that Mr. Buddy had been imbibing largely of the 
stimulants plentifully handed round to the various servants 
outside. 

But the ladies were duly packed inside, the jangling door 
was banged to, and Joseph, having mounted to the box be- 
side Mr. Buddy, perhaps only out of regard for his own 
safety, assumed the reins of government himself, and 
steered the fly to the Palace doors. . 

“ Good-night, children,” said the Honorable Misses 
Dymcox in duet. “ Take care of your dresses whatever 
you do ! ” 

“ Oh, Rie ! ” cried Clotilde, as soon as they were in their 
bedroom. 

a Oh, Clo ! ” cried Marie. Then crossing to the farther 
door to the cupboard in which Ruth’s bed was squeezed — 
“ Sleep, Ruthy ? ” 

“ No, Marie,” was the reply, as a troubled, pale face was 
lifted from the pillow. 

“ Why, I declare she has been crying ! ” said Clotilde. 
“ There, jump up and help us to undress, Cindy, and we’ll 
tell you all about the prince and the ball. You weren’t 
there, were you ? ” 


8 


H4 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


No ; Cinderella, otherwise Ruth Allerton, had not been 
there ; but she had been crying bitterly, for she had had a 
fright. 


CHAPTER XI. 

FAMILY MATTERS. 

Captain Robert Millet’s lunch was carried up to him 
upon a stiff, long, narrow tray, which took dishes and 
plates one after the other in a long row. It was evidently 
something or several somethings very savory and nice from 
the odors exhaled, but everything was carefully covered 
over. 

It was no easy task, the carriage of that long, narrow 
tray from the basement to the back drawing-room on the 
first floor, especially as there were gravies and other liquids 
on the tray ; but Valentine Vidler and his wife had taken 
up breakfasts, lunches, and dinners too many thousand 
times to be in any difficulty now. 

So, starting from the dark kitchen, where coppers, pew- 
ters, and tins shone like so many moons amidst the gloom, 
the odd couple each took an end of the tray, which was 
quite six feet long, and Vidler’s own invention. Salome 
went first, backwards, and Vidler followed over the level, 
when, as the little woman reached the mat at the foot of 
the kitchen stairs, there was a pause, while she held the 
tray with one hand and gave her long garments a hitch, so 
as to hold one end in her teeth and not tread upon them 
as she went up backwards. Then, stooping and holding 
the tray as low as she could, she began to ascend, Vidler 
following and gradually raising his end to preserve the 
level of the tray till he held it right above his head. 

This raising and lowering in ascent and upon level was 
all carried out in the most exact and regular way — in fact, 
so practised had the old couple grown in the course of 
years, that they could have carried a brimming glass of 
water up the gloomy stairs without spilling a drop. Hence, 
then, they reached the drawing-room with the tray pre- 
serving its equilibrium from bottom to top. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


15 


As soon as they were inside Salome placed her end upon 
the little bracket while Vidler retained his ; then she went 
out of the room, took up a big, soft drumstick, and gave 
three gentle taps on a gong that hung in its frame — three 
taps at long intervals, which sounded like the boomings of 
a bell at the funeral of a fish and a fowl — and then returned 
to the drawing-room and stood on the right-hand side of 
the panel close to the wall with one hand raised. 

As she took her place the panel was softly slid back to- 
wards her. Then she took off the first cover, Vidler acting 
in conjunction, made the long tray glide slowly forwards 
into the opening, its end evidently resting on something 
within. Then two hands appeared, a knife and fork were 
used, with a glass at intervals, and the fish was discussed. 

As soon as the knife and fork were laid down Salome 
whipped off two more covers, and the tray glided in a 
couple of feet further, both the lady and her lord keeping 
their eyes fixed upon the floor. 

The calmness and ease with which all this was carried 
on indicated long practice, and for precision no amount of 
drilling could have secured greater regularity. As the knife 
and fork fell upon the plate again there was a pause, for a 
pint decanter and glass were pushed opposite the thin 
white hands that now approached, and, removing the 
stopper, filled the glass. Then a cover was raised, and 
the tray glided onward once more, with some steaming 
asparagus on toast ; and after a short pause the cold, 
colorless voice was heard to repeat a short grace, the tray 
was slowly withdrawn, the panel glided to, and Vidler and 
his little wife bore the remains of the luncheon to the lower 
regions. 

Hardly had the tray been set down before there was a 
double knock, and on going upstairs Vidler found John 
Huish at the front door. 

“ Would Captain Millet give me an interview, Vidler? ” 
he asked. 

The little man looked at him sidewise, then tried the 
other eye, and ended by standing out of the way and letting 
the visitor enter, shutting out the light again as carefully 
as before. 

“ I’ll try, sir,” he said ; “ I don’t think he will, I was 
just going to take up that,” he continued, pointing to a 
basket of colored scraps of print. “ He’s about to begin 
a new counterpane to-day.” 


Ii6 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“A new what ? ” said Huish. 

“ A new counterpane for the Home Charity. That’ll be 
six he has made this year. Til-show you the last.” 

He led Huish into the darkened dining-room, and 
showed him a wonderfully neat piece of needlework, a re- 
gular set pattern, composed of hundreds upon hundreds of 
tiny scraps of cotton print. 

“ Makes ’em better than many women could, and almost 
in the dark,” said the little man ; “ but I’ll go up and see. 
Miss Millet and her sister have not been gone long.” 

“ What ! ” cried Huish, “ from here ? ” 

“ Gone nearly or quite an hour ago, sir. Been a good 
deal lately.” 

“ My usual fortune,” muttered Huish excitedly. “ But 
go up,” he said aloud; “ I particularly want to have a few 
words with him.” 

“ I don’t think it’s of any use, sir ; but I’ll see,” repeated 
the little man ; and he went upstairs, to return at the end 
of about five minutes to beckon the visitor up, and left him 
facing the panel. 

It was evident that the young man had been there before, 
as he took a seat, and waited patiently for the panel to 
unclose, which it did at last, but not until quite a quarter 
of an hour had passed. 

“Well, John Huish,” said the voice, “what do you 
want ? ” 

It was rather a chilling reception for one who had come 
upon such a mission ; but he was prepared for it, and 
dashed at once into the object of his visit, in spite of the 
peculiarity of having to address himself to a square opening 
in the wall. 

“ I have come for advice and counsel,” said Huish firmly. 

“You, a man of the world, living in the world, come to 
such an anchorite as I ! ” said the voice — “ as I, who have 
for pretty well thirty years been dead to society and its 
ways ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Huish. “ I come to you because you can 
help.” 

“ How much do you want, John Huish ? ” said the voice. 
“ Give me the pen and ink.” 

The thin white hand appeared impatiently at the open- 
ing, with the fingers clutching as if to take the pen. 

” No, no, no ! ” said the young man hastily. “ It is not 
that. Let me tell you,” he exclaimed, as the fingers ceased 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


17 


to clutch impatiently at the air and the white hand rested 
calmly upon the edge of the opening — “ let me speak 
plainly, for I am not ashamed of it — I am in love.” 

There was a faint sigh here, hardly audible to the young 
man, who went on : 

“ I come to you for help and advice.” 

“ What can I do to help ? As for advice,” said the 
voice coldly, “ I will do what I can. Is she worthy of your 
love ? ” 

“ Worthy ? ” cried Huish, flushing. “ She is an angel.” 

“ Yes,” said the voice, with a sigh. “ They all are. But, 
tell me, does she refuse you ? ” 

“No, sir.” 

“ Then what more do you want ? Who and what is 
she ? ” 

These last words were said with more approach to 
interest, and the fingers began to tap the edge of the 
opening. 

“ It is presumption on my part,” said Huish, growing 
excited, and rising to stride up and down the room, “for I 
am poor and unworthy of her. 

“ No true honorable man is unworthy of the woman he 
loves,” said the voice calmly, “ though he may be unsuited. 
Go on. Who is the lady ? ” 

“ Who is she, sir ? I believe that you must know. It is 
your niece — Gertrude.” 

“ My God ! ” 

It was almost a whisper, but John Huish heard it and 
saw that the thin white hand seemed to be jerked upwards, 
falling slowly back, though, to remain upon the edge of the 
opening trembling. 

“ I shock you, sir, by my announcement,” said Huish 
bitterly. 

“No — yes — no; not shock — surprise me greatly.” 
There was a pause, and the fingers trembled as they were 
now and again raised, then grew steady as they were laid 
down. “ But tell me,” it continued, trembling and becom- 
ing less cold, “ does Gertrude return your love ? ” 

“ Oh yes, Heaven bless her, yes ! ” cried the young man 
fervently ; and there was another silence, such as might 
have ensued had the owner of the voice been trying to 
master some emotion. 

“ What more, then, do you want ? ” said the voice, now 
greatly changed. “ You, an honorable young man, in love 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


ITS 

with a girl who is all sweetness and purity. It is strange ; 
but it is the will of God. Marry her, and may He bless 
the union ! ” 

“ Captain Millet, you make me very, very happy,” cried 
the young man ; and before the hand could be removed it 
was seized and pressed in his strong grasp. 

It was withdrawn directly, and a fresh silence ensued, 
when the voice said softly : 

“ And my brother, does he approve ? ” 

“Oh yes ; I think so,” replied Huish ; “ but ” 

“The mother objects — of course. She has made her 
choice. Who is it ? ” 

“ Lord Henry Moorpark.” 

“ A man nearly three times her age. It would be a 
crime. You will not permit such an outrage against her 
youth. Moorpark must be mad.” 

“ What can I do, sir? ” cried Huish. “That is why I 
ask your help and counsel.” 

“Bah!” said the voice contemptuously. “You are 
young and strong ; you have your wits ; Gertrude loves 
you, and, you ask me for help and counsel ! John Huish, 
at your age, under such circumstances, it would have been 
a bold man who would have robbed me of my prize. There, 
go — go, young man, and think and act. Poor Gertrude ! 
she has a mother who makes Mammon her god — a woman 
who has broken one of her children’s hearts ; do not let 
her break that of the other. Go now, I am weary : this 
has been a tiring day. You can come to me again.” 

“ Do not let her break that of the other,” said John 
Huish to himself as the panel slowly closed ; and from 
that moment the dim twilight of the shuttered house became 
to him glorious with light, and he went away feeling joyous 
and elastic as he had not felt for days. As he neared his 
chambers a thin, gray, hard-faced-looking woman who had 
stood watching for quite an hour, stepped out of a doorway 
and touched him on the arm. 

He turned sharply, and she said in a low voice : 

“ I must see you. Come to-morrow night at the old 
time.” 

Before he could speak she had hurried away, turned 
down the next street, and was gone. 

“ To-morrow night — the old time ? ” said Huish, gazing 
after her, ^nd then raising hi^ hat to place his hand upon 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


119 

his forehead. “Quite cool. Is it fancy? Why should 
that woman speak to me ? ” 

Then, turning upon his heel, he entered the door of his 
chambers, and set himself to work to think over his inter- 
view, and to think out some plan for defeating Lady Millet 
in her projected enterprise. 

“ It would shock her,” he said at last ; “ but when she 
knows of her uncle’s views she might be influenced. She 
must, she shall be. The poor old man’s words have given 
* me strength, and I shall win, after all. But what slaves we 
are to custom and prejudice ! I ought not to be the man 
to study them in such a case as this.” 

Then the words just spoken to him at the door came 
back to puzzle and set him thinking of several other en- 
counters — or fancied encounters with people whom he felt 
that he had never seen before. 

“ I don’t know what to say to it,” he thought ; “Stonor 
ought to know ; but somehow I feel as if he had not 
grasped my case. There, I will not trouble about that 
now.” 

He kept the thoughts which troubled him from his brain 
for a time, but they soon forced themselves back with 
others. 

“ I wonder,” he mused, “ what took place in the past ? 
There must have been something. My father and mother 
must have known Captain Millet very intimately. He 
received his injury from some fall, and Dr. Stonor saved 
his limb, I believe. But there’s a reticence about all that 
time which is aggravating. I suppose I must wait, and 
when I learn everything which puzzles me now, it will be 
only shadowy and vague. Only my mother always asks 
about the captain with so tender a tone of respect. Ah, 
well ! I must wait.” 

At about the same time that John Huish was pondering 
over his state in connection with his love affairs, Renee 
Morrison called in her carriage for her sister, bore her off 
to where she thought they could be alone, and sent the 
carriage back. The place chosen was the Park, which, 
though pretty well thronged with people, seemed to them 
solitary, as they strolled across toward the Row. 

Gertrude was very silent, for she felt that Renee had 
something important to say ; but the minutes sped on, and 
their scattered remarks had been of the most commonplace 


120 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


character, and at last, as she glanced sideways, Gertrude 
saw that if her sister were to confide her troubles and be 
the recipient of those effervescing in her own breast she 
herself must speak. 

“You do not confide in me, Renee dear/’ she said ten- 
derly, as they took a couple of chairs beneath one of the 
spreading trees. “ Why do you not always make me more 
your confidant? One feels as if one could talk out here 
in the park, where there are no walls to listen. Come, 
dear, why do you not tell me all? ” 

“ Because I feel that my husband’s secrets are in my 
keeping, and that I should be doing wrong to speak of 
what he does.” 

“ Not wrong in confiding in me, Renee. You are not 
happy. Oh, Ren, Ren, why did you consent ? Trouble, 
and so soon 1 ” 

“ Don’t talk to me like that, now, Gerty,” cried Renee 
in a low, passionate voice, “ because it was mamma’s will 
that we should marry well and have establishments, and 
satisfy her pride. Sometimes I think it would have been 
better if I had never been born.” 

“ Oh, Ren, Ren,” her sister whispered, pressing her 
hand. “ But Frank — he is kind to you ? ” 

“Yes,” said Renee sadly; “he is never angry with 
me.” 

“ But I mean kind and loving and attentive, as your hus- 
band should be ? ” said Gertrude softly. 

Renee looked at her with a sad, heavy look, and now 
that the first confidence had been made, her heart was 
open to her sister. 

“ Gertrude,” she whispered, “ he never loved me 1” 

“ Oh, Ren dear, think what you are saying ! ” 

“ I do think, dear, and I say it once more. He never 
loved me.” 

“ But, Renee, you have been kind and loving to him.” 

“ Yes, as tender as a woman could be to the man she 
had sworn to love ; but he does not care for me, and I am 
haunted.” 

“ Haunted, Renee ! ” 

“ Yes ; hush ! Here is Major Malpas.” 

Gertrude glanced in the direction taken by her sister’s 
eyes, and her heart seemed to be compressed as by a cold 
hand, as she turned indignantly to her sister. 


A DOUBLE KNOT . 


121 


“ RenSe ! ” she said, in a horrified whisper, “ oh, do not 
say you care for him still ! ” 

“Gertrude!” cried Renee, catching her hand, “how 
dare you say that ! I hate — I detest him ! I thought him 
a gentleman once, and I did love him ; but that was over 
when I married Frank, and since then he has haunted me ; 
he follows me everywhere, and Frank makes him his con- 
stant companion, and he leads him away.” 

“ Oh, this is dreadful! ” 

“ Dreadful ! ” cried Ren6e, “ I feel at times that I cannot 
bear it. Come away : he has seen us, and is coming 
here.” 

“ Is — is that Mr. Huish ? ” whispered Gertrude, gazing 
in another direction. 

“ Yes. Who is the dark lady on his arm ? ” 

“ I do not know,” said Gertrude quietly. “ Some friend, 
perhaps ; but, look, is not that Frank? ” 

She drew her sister’s attention towards a phaeton in 
which Frank Morrison was driving a handsome-looking 
woman dressed in the height of fashion ; and directly 
Renee saw him plainly the major came up. 

“ What a delightful meeting, Miss Millet ! ” he said. 
“ Mrs. Morrison, I hope I shall not be de trop ? ” 

“ My husband’s friends have too great a claim on me,” 
said Renee quietly, as she left her seat and moved in the 
direction of her own home; but she kept glancing in the 
direction taken by the phaeton. 

It was cleverly managed, and as if Malpas knew exactly 
when the carriage would next come by, timing his place so 
well that the sisters were close to the railings as the dash- 
ing pair scattered some of the earth over the young wife’s 
dress. 

“ Who is that with Frank Morrison, Major Malpas ? ” 
said Gertrude quickly. 

“ I beg your pardon ? ” he said. 

“ That fashionably-dressed lady in my brother-in-law’s 
phaeton. There they go.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said the major. “ I was not looking. Are 
you sure it was he ? ” 

“ Certain,” replied Gertrude. 

“My dear Mrs. Morrison, is anything the matter?” 
cried the major, with a voice full of sympathy. 

“No, nothing,” said the young wife, who was now dead- 
ly pale. “ May I ask you — to leave us ? ” 


122 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Yes,” he said earnestly ; “ but I shall not go. Pray 
take my arm. Miss Millet, your sister is ill. I fear you 
have been imprudent and have taxed her strength. I must 
see her safely home, or I could not face Morrison again.” 

“ He haunts me ! ” thought Gertrude to herself, as she 
recalled her sister’s words, and found that the major per- 
sisted in walking by her side till they reached Chesham 
Place, where, murmuring his satisfaction that Ren6e seemed 
better, he left the sisters in the hall. 

“ All things come to the man who waits,” he muttered 
to himself, as he went off smiling. 

“ Renee,” said Gertrude, as soon as they were alone, 
“ have you ever encouraged him in any way since your mar- 
riage ? How is it he seems to have such a hold upon 
you ? ” 

“ I do not know — I cannot tell,” said Renee wearily, as, 
with brow contracted, she sat thinking of the scene in the 
Park. “ But do not mention him — do not think of him, 
Gertrude dear ; he is as nothing in face of this new 
misery.” 

“ New misery ? ” said Gertrude innocently. 

“Yes,” cried Renee passionately; “do you not see? 
Oh, Frank, Frank ! ” she moaned, “ why do you treat me 
so?” 

Gertrude, upon whom all this came like a revelation, 
strove to comfort her, and to point out that her fears 
might be mere exaggerations, but her sister turned 
sharply. 

“ You do not understand these things, Gertrude-,” she 
said. “ He does not love me as he should, and, knowing 
this, Major Malpas has never ceased to try and tempt 
him away from me — to the clubs — to gambling parties, 
from which he comes home hot and feverish ; and now it 
seems that worse is to follow. Oh, mother, mother ! you 
have secured me an establishment which I would gladly 
change for the humblest cottage, if it contained my hus- 
band’s faithful love.” 

Gertrude’s heart beat fast at these words, and a faltering 
purpose became strengthened. 

“ But, Ren darling,” she whispered ; “ have you spoken 
to him and tried to win him from such associations ? 
Frank is so good at heart.” 

“ Yes,” sighed Renee ; “ but so weak and easily led 
away. Spoken to him, Gertrude? No, dear. As his 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


123 


wife, I have felt that I must ignore such things. I would 
not know that he visited such places — that he gambled — 
that he returned home excited. I have put all such 
thoughts aside, and met him always with the same smile of 
welcome, when my heart has been well-nigh broken.” 

“ My poor sister ! ” whispered Gertrude drawing her 
head to her breast and thinking of the husband and estab- 
lishment that her mother had arranged for her to possess. 

“ But this I feel that I cannot bear,” cried Renee impe- 
tuously. It is too great an outrage ! ” 

“ Oh, Ren, Ren ! ” whispered Gertrude, “ do not judge 
him too rashly ; wait and see — it may be all a mistake.” 

“ Mistake ! ” said Renee bitterly ; “ did you not see him 
driving that woman out ? Did you not see her occupying 
the place that should be mine ? ” 

“ Yes — yes,” faltered Gertrude ; “but still there may be 
some explanation.” 

“ Yes,” said Renee at last, as she dried her tears and sat 
up, looking very cold and stern ; “ there may be, and we 
will wait and see. At all events, I will not say one single 
harsh word.” 

Gertrude left her at last quite calm and composed, the 
brougham being ordered for her use, and she sat back 
thinking of John Huish with the dark lady ; but only to 
smile, for no jealous fancy troubled her breast. 


CHAPTER XII. 

MR. MONTAIGNE ESTABLISHES A BOND OF SYMPATHY. 

Mr. Paul Montaigne was one of those quiet, bland gentle- 
men, who, apparently without an effort, seemed to know 
everything that went on in his immediate neighborhood. 
He never asked questions, but waited patiently, and the 
result was that, drawn, perhaps, by his quiet, persuasive 
way, people told him all he wanted to know. 

Somehow, he had the knack of winning the confidence 
of women, and if he had been a confessor, his would have 
been an easy task. 

There were those who said that he was a Jesuit, but 
when it came to his ears, he merely smiled pityingly, and 


124 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


made a point of attending church at all the week-day 
services, and repeating the responses in a quiet, reverent- 
way that, combined with his closed eyes, gave him the 
aspect of true devoutness. 

How he lived none knew, but it was supposed that he 
had an income from a vineyard in Central France, one 
which he had inherited from his father, an English gentle- 
man who had had a taste for wine-growing. 

Mr. Paul Montaigne never contradicted the rumor, and 
he never entered into particulars about his past. He had 
been the friend of the mother of Clotilde and Marie. He 
had brought the children over to England when quite a 
young man, with a very French look and a suggestion of 
his being a student at a French religious seminary. He 
had brought letters of introduction with him, and he had 
been in England ever since. 

Time seemed to have stood still with Paul Montaigne. 
Certainly, he was just a shade stouter, and there were a 
few bright, silvery looking hairs about his temples ; in 
other respects he looked quite a young man, for his 
smoothly-shaven face showed scarcely a line, his dark eyes 
were bright, and his black brows were as smoothly arched 
as if drawn with a pair of compasses. 

Upon that smooth face there was always a pensive, half- 
sad smile, one which he seemed to be constantly trying to 
wipe off with his soft, plump, well-shaped, and very white 
hand, but without success, for the smile was always there — 
the quiet, beseeching smile that won so many women’s 
confidence, but sometimes had the contrary effect upon the 
sterner sex. 

Those who said that he was a student were to some 
extent right, for his modest lodgings at Teddington were 
well furnished with books, and he was a familiar object to 
many, as with his white hands clasped behind him he walked 
in his semi-clerical habit to and from the Palace at Hamp- 
ton Court — through Bushey Park, and always on the same 
side of the road, making a point of pausing at the inlet of 
the Diana Pool to throw crumbs of bread to the eager fish 
before continuing his walk in by the Lion Gate into the 
Palace gardens to the large fountain basin, where the great 
gold and silver fish also had their portion. 

He never spoke to anyone ; apparently nobody ever 
spoke to him, and he went his way to and fro, generally 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


I2 5 


known as “ the priest,” making his journeys two or three 
tjmes a week to call at the apartments of the Honorable 
Misses Dymcox to see his young pupils, as he called them, 
and to converse with them to keep up their French. 

Upon these occasions he partook of the weak tea handed 
round by Joseph, and broke a portion off one of the thin 
biscuits that accompanied the cups. In fact, he was an 
institution with the Dimcox family, and had been duly taken 
into the ladies’ confidence respecting the movement pro- 
posed by Lady Littletown. 

“ My dear ladies,” he had responded, “ you know my 
position here — my trust to the dead; I watch over the 
welfare of their children, and you tell me this is for their 
well-being. What else can I say but may your plans 
prosper? ” 

“ But I would not mention it to the children, Mr. Mon- 
taigne,” said Miss Philippa. 

“ I mention it ! My dear madam, all these years that you 
have known me, and is my character a sealed book to you 
still ? ” 

“ For my yart, I don’t like him,” said Joseph once to 
Markes, and he was politely told not to be a fool, Cook, 
however, who had a yearning after the mysterious, proved 
to be of a more sympathetic mind, and when Joseph told 
her his opinion, that this Mr. Montaigne was only a Jesuit 
and a priest in disguise, cook said she shouldn’t a bit 
wonder, for “ them sort often was.” 

Now, cook had not seen Mr. Montaigne, so her judgment 
should be taken cum gra7io , as also in the case where 
Joseph declared' Mr. Montaigne to be “ a deep ’un,” when 
she declared that was sure to be the case. 

On the night of the dinner-party at Hampton, the car- 
riage — to wit, Mr. Buddy’s fly — had no sooner departed than 
Markes announced her intention of going next door to see 
Lady Anna Maria Morton’s maid; at which cook grunted, 
and, being left alone, proceeded to take out a basket from 
the dresser drawer, and seated herself to have what she 
called a couple of hours’ good darn. 

One of those hours had nearly passed, and several black 
worsted stockings had been ornamented with patches of 
rectangular embroidery, when the outer door-bell rang. 

“ If that’s one of them dratted soldiers calling with his 
impudence, he’ll get sent off with a flea in his ear,” cried 
cook. 


126 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


She bounced up angrily, and made her way to the door. 
It was no gallant Lancer in undress uniform and a cane 
under his arm, -but Mr. Paul Montaigne, whom cook at 
once knew by his description. 

“ The ladies in? ” he said quietly. 

“ No, sir ; which, please, they’ve gone to dine at Lady 
Littletown’s.” 

“ To be sure, yes, I had forgotten,” he said, smiling 
nicely — so cook put it — at the plump domestic. “ But 
never mind, I will have a few minutes’ chat with Miss Clo- 
tilde and Miss Marie.” 

“ Which they’ve gone as well, sir.” 

“ To be sure, yes, I ought to have known,” said the 
visitor absently, “ I ought to have remembered ; and is 
Miss Ruth gone as well ? ” 

“ Oh no, sir ; she’s in the schoolroom all alone ! ” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Mr. Montaigne, raising his eyebrows. 
“ Ah, well, I will not disturb — and yet, I don’t know ; I am 
rather tired, and I will have a few minutes’ chat with her 
before I walk back.” 

“ Such a nice, mild-spoken kind of gentleman, though he 
had rather a papish look,” said cook ; and she ushered the 
visitor into the empty drawing-room, going directly after to 
tell Ruth. 

It was growing dark, and Ruth, who was in bad spirits 
at having been left alone, felt a kind of shrinking, she 
could not have told why, from meeting Mr. Montaigne. 

He had always been quiet and paternal in his treatment, 
and she had, as a rule, shared the lessons of Clotilde and 
Marie ; but, somehow, Ruth was one of the women whose 
confidence he had never won. 

“ Ah, Ruth, my child,” he said, advancing with quiet, 
cat-like step as she entered, and his voice sounded soft and 
velvety in the silence of the gloomy place, ‘‘and so you are 
all alone ? ” 

“Yes ; I will ring for candles,” she said hastily. 

“ No, my child, it is not necessary,” he replied, taking 
her hand, and leading her to the stiff, formal old sofa at 
the side of the room. “ I had forgotten that the dinner- 
party was this evening, or I should not have walked over. 
As it is, dear child, I will sit down and rest for ten minutes, 
and then stroll back.” 

“Would you like a cup of tea made for you? cook 
would soon have it ready,” asked Ruth. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


127 


“ Oh, no, no, my child,” he said softly, as he sat there, 
evidently forgetting that he still retained the little white 
hand, which, after an effort to withdraw, Ruth felt obliged 
to let rest where it was, prisoned now between both of Mr. 
Montaigne’s soft sets of well-cared-for fingers, as he spoke. 

“ What a calm, delicious repose there always seems to 
be here, Ruth, within these Palace walls ! The gay, noisy 
throng of pleasure-seekers come from the busy hive of 
industry, and flit and flutter about the park and gardens ; 
their footsteps echo through the state chambers, as they 
gaze at the relics of a bygone time, and their voices ring 
with merry, thoughtless jest ; but, somehow, their presence 
never seems to penetrate to these private apartments where 
all is calmness, purity and peace.” 

“ Yes ; I often wonder at the way in which we seem to 
escape hearing them as we do,” replied Ruth, making an 
effort to respond ; for her heart was beating painfully, and 
she was afraid that the visitor might note the tremor in her 
voice. 

“ Peace and repose,” he said softly, as he played with 
the hand he held. “ The world seems far away from you 
here, and I often envy you the calm unruffled existence 
that you enjoy. But tell me, child, did you feel disap- 
pointed at not forming one of the party this evening ? ” 

“ I — I must confess that I should have liked to go,” 
faltered Ruth. 

“ Well, yes, it was very natural,” he replied ; and as 
Ruth glanced quickly at him, she felt that there was a grave 
smile upon his face. She could barely see it, for the room 
was growing darker, and now, for a few moments, her 
tremor began to increase. 

“ But Clotilde and Marie are older than I, and it was 
only natural that they should be preferred. And then, Mr. 
Montaigne, they are so beautiful.” 

“ Not more beautiful than you are, Ruth.” 

“ Mr. Montaigne ! ” 

She made an effort to withdraw her hand, but it was 
tightly retained. 

“ Not more beautiful in person, less beautiful in mind 
and temperament, my child,” continued Montaigne. 
“ Don’t try to withdraw your hand ; I wish to talk seriously 
to you.” 

Ruth felt that to struggle would be unseemly, and though 
she felt an undefined dread of her position, her reason 


128 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


seemed to combat what she was ready to condemn as 
fancy, and Mr. Montaigne had known her from, and still 
addressed her as, a “ child.” 

“ I should feel deeply disappointed if it were not so, 
Ruth ; for I look upon you as one whose mind I have 
helped to train, whose growing intellect I have tried to 
form, and bias towards a love of the beautiful and pure and 
good.” 

Ruth felt more at her ease, and less troubled that the 
visitor should retain her hand. 

“ I have, I think — nay, I boldly say — led your mind in 
its studies, and guided your reading,” continued Montaigne 
in the same low, bland voice, every tone of which was 
musical, deep, and sweet. It had not a harsh, jarring tone, 
but all was carefully modulated, and lent a charm to what 
he spoke. 

Ruth murmured something about feeling very grateful, 
and wished that he would go. 

“ Tell me, child," he said gently, and now one soft hand 
glided to Ruth's wrist, and a finger rested upon her pulse, 
probably that the mental physician might test the regular- 
ity of the beats produced by his long-administered moral 
medicine, “ what are you reading now ? ” 

“ ‘ Froissart's Chronicle,' ” replied Ruth. 

“ An excellent work — one which leads the mind to an 
appreciation of chivalry and the noble deeds of the past. 
Any work of fiction ? ” 

“ Ye’es,” faltered Ruth ; n I have read part of a novel," 

“ That the Misses Dymcox placed in your hands?” 

“No,” faltered Ruth, speaking like a found-out child. 
“Ought I to tell you, Mr. Montaigne?” 

“ Assuredly, my child. What should you keep from me ? " 

“ It was a work by George Eliot that Clotilde had ob- 
tained from the library." 

“ Unknown to her aunts? " 

“ Yes, Mr. Montaigne ; but please don’t be angry with 
her.” 

“No, my child, I will not." 

“ Clotilde did not like it, and threw it aside, and I hap- 
pened to see it; but I have not read much." 

“ They get novels, then ? ” said Mr. Montaigne. 

“They will be very angry with me for telling you, Mr. 
Montaigne.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


129 


“ I shall not tell them, dear child; perhaps it is natural. 
What is Clotilde reading now?” 

“ A French story, ‘Annette.’ ” 

“ Indeed ! ” said Montaigne softly : and he drew his 
breath between his teeth. “ And have you read it, child ? ” 

“ No, Mr. Montaigne. Miss Philippa expressly forbade 
our ever reading French novels ; she said they were bad.” 

“ Well — yes — perhaps, my child ; but your pure, sweet 
young mind would eliminate the evil, and retain only the 
true and good. I should not debar you from such works. 
So you young ladies obtain novels from the library ? ” 

“ I do not,” said Ruth simply. “ But pray do not ask 
me such things, Mr. Montaigne ; it makes me seem to be 
tale-bearing about my cousins.” 

“ Don’t be afraid, my child,” continued Montaigne ; 
“ let there be more confidence between us. Believe me, 
Ruth, you mayLtrust me always as your best friend, and 
one to wham your welfare is very, very dear.” 

““ Thank you, Mr. Montaigne,” faltered Ruth; “I will 
try to think of you as you wish. Will you let me ring for 
candles now ? ” 

“ Oh no, it is not necessary, my dear ; I am going 
directly. Come, Ruth, my child, why do you shrink 
away ? Am I so very dreadful, my little girl ? There, sit 
still,” he said in a whisper. “ I shall have to make you a 
prisoner, while I read you a lesson on obedience and duty 
to those who have your welfare at heart.” 

Ruth was growing alarmed, for he had softly passed one 
arm round her little waist, and in spite of her feeble strug- 
gles drawn her to his side. 

“ There, my child, now I feel as if you were my own 
loving, dutiful little girl whom I had adopted ; and I am 
going to cross-examine you like a father confessor,” he con- 
tinued playfully. “ Ruth dear, I hope this little heart is in 
safe keeping.” 

“ I — I do not understand you, Mr. Montaigne,” cried 
Ruth, whose womanly instincts were now alarmed. “ Will 
you loose me, please, and let me ring for the candles ? It 
is quite dark.” 

“ But you are not afraid of being in the dark, my child,” 
he whispered ; “ and — hush ! not a word.” 

He laid his hand upon her lips, for just then Markes’ 
voice was heard outside. 


9 


130 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Ruth ! Miss Ruth ! ” 

“Sit still, foolish child!” he whispered, holding her 
more tightly ; “ that woman would perhaps chatter if she 
knew you were here like this with me.” 

A chill of horror came over Ruth, and she sat like one 
paralyzed, as the handle turned, the door opened, and^ 
Markes looked into the darkened room. 

“ Why, where has the girl gone ? ” she muttered angrily. 

She went away directly, and a moment or two later her 
voice was heard crying : 

“ She isn’t in the drawing-room, cook.” 

“You had better go up to your own room, child,” said 
Montaigne softly. “ I will go now. Do not trouble about 
this ; for I think it weak to trust servants, whose igno- 
rance and prejudice often lead them to wrong ideas. 
Good-night, my child. You have neither father nor 
mother, but remember that while Paul Montaigne lives you 
have one who is striving to fill the place of both, as he 
tries to watch over you for your good.” 

He had allowed her to rise now, but he still retained her 
hand as he stood beside her, his words, for the moment, 
disarming the resentment in her breast. 

“ Good-night, my dear child. I shall let myself out after 
you have reached your room. Good-night — good-night. 
Nay, your lips, Ruth, to me.” 

Before she had well realized the fact, he had folded her 
in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers. Then, loosening 
her from his embrace, he let her go, and, trembling and 
agitated as she had never been before, she ran quickly to 
her room. 

Innocent at heart, and unskilled in the ways of the world 
as girl could be, as she seated herself upon the edge of the 
bed she ran rapidly over what had taken place. 

She did not like Mr. Montaigne, and his acts towards 
her that night made her tremble with indignation ; but 
these thoughts were met by another current, which seemed 
to tell her that she was misjudging him. He had spoken 
to her as to one who was very dear to him. His words 
had been those of a father to his child ; and why should 
she resent it ? Mr. Montaigne was not a young man, and 
it might seem to him that their positions had in no wise 
changed since she, a trembling, heart-broken little girl, 
fresh from a wretched home, had sat and listened to his 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


soft, bland voice, followed his instructions, and had her 
curls smoothed by his soft white hand. 

“ But I am a woman grown now, and it is dreadful,” she 
cried, bursting into a passion of indignant tears. “ I don’t 
like it. I will speak to Miss Philippa. I don’t think it is 
right.” 

“ Are you there, Miss Ruth ? ” 

“Yes, Markes.” 

“ Oh, that’s right. I thought you was lost. Cook told 
me you were in the drawing-room when I came in. There, 
child, don’t sit and mope in the dark because you did not 
get asked to the party. You’ll be a woman soon, my dear, 
and maybe theyil find you a husband like the rest. 1 ’ 

“ Child ! ” Yes, it was always “ child ; ” but the girl’s 
heart rebelled against the appellation. These elderly 
maidens could not think of her as one whose mind was 
ripening fast, in spite of the sunless seclusion in which she 
lived. 

“ I’ll tell Markes,” she thought, as her heart throbbed 
with the recollection of that which had passed. But no ; 
she could not. There was something repellent in tins 
woman’s ways, and at last, with her brain in a tumult with 
conflicting ideas, Ruth sought her pillow, while Paul 
Montaigne, with a curious smile upon his face, was still 
pacing his room after his dark walk back to Teddington, 
one hand clasping the other, as if he still held Ruth’s. 

“ No,” he said, she will not say a word. It is not 
likely. There is a bond of sympathy between us now.” 

He walked up and down a little longer, and then stood 
still, talking softly — half aloud. 

“ Woman is our master, they say ; but let her be led to 
compromise herself, however slightly, and she becomes the 
slave. Poor little Ruth, she is very innocent and sweet.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

LOVE PAINTS AND DECORATES. 

The change at the Honorable Misses Dymcox’s home was 
something so startling that Ruth was almost bewildered. 
Even on the following morning at breakfast, after Joseph 
had brought in the urn, the alteration had begun. 


I 3 2 


A DOUBLE KNOT 


The wine of the last night’s party might have been 
fancied to be still having its influence, the ladies were so 
much less austere. 

“ I’m very, very glad you enjoyed yourselves so much, 
my dears,” said the Honorable Philippa, smiling. 

You feel none the worse, my loves ? ” said the Honor- 
able Isabella. 

“ Oh no, aunt,’* said Clotilde ; “ I feel better. Don’t 
you, Marie ? ” 

“ Oh yes,” said that young lady ; “ it was a delightful 
party.” 

“ It was, my dears,” said the Honorable Philippa, letting 
the water from the urn run over the top of the teapot. 
“ Bless me, how careless ! I am glad I consented to allow 
you both to go, for you see how necessary to a proper state 
of existence a due amount of money becomes.” 

“ How admirably dear Lady Littletown manages her 
income ! ” said the Honorable Isabella. 

“ Yes, and how needful a good income really is ! Yes, 
it was a very distingue dinner. Marie, my child, Lord 
Henry Moorpark is most gentlemanly, is he not ? ” 

“ Oh yes, I like him very much,” replied Marie, with 
animation, and a slight flush in her cheek, for she had been 
suddenly appealed to when thinking about Marcus Glen, 
and the way he had glanced at her more than once. “ He 
seems a very nice old gentleman.” 

“ Hem ! ” coughed the Honorable Philippa austerely. 
“ I do not think him old.” 

“ Certainly not,” exclaimed the Honorable Isabella ; 
“ hardly elderly.” 

“ Decidedly no,” continued the Honorable Philippa. 
“ By the way, Clotilde, my love, you found Mr. Elbraham 
very pleasant? ” 

“ Oh yes, aunt.” 

“ 1 am glad of it,” said the Honorable Philippa, smiling 
graciously, while Ruth, open-eyed and listening, went on 
with her breakfast, wondering at the change. “ He is the 
great financier — enormously wealthy. I hear that he is to 
be made a duke by the Austrian emperor. He is already 
a chevalier.” 

“ Indeed, aunt ? ” said Clotilde, who also was thinking 
of Captain Glen. 

“Yes, my dear; his houses are a marvel, I believe, for 
their wealth and display.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


! 33 


“ Is he a Jew, aunt ? ” said Marie innocently. 

“ My dear child, no ! How can you ask such a question, 
Marie ? I have heard something about his family being 
of Hebrew descent — Eastern Hebrew descent — Elbraham, 
Abraham, very ancient, no doubt ; but I don’t know for 
certain, and really I do not care to know : for what does it 
matter ? ” 

“ Yes, what indeed ? ” said her sister. “ A very gentle- 
manly, highly-cultured man.” 

“ With a wonderful knowledge of the world and its ways. 
He has been a deal in Egypt, did not Lady Littletovvn say, 
Isabella ? ” 

“ Yes, with the Khedive,” was the reply. “ Enormously 
wealthy.” 

The breakfast ended, the young ladies were dismissed. 

“ I would not go to the schoolroom this morning, my 
dears,” said the elder sister ; “go and lie down for an hour 
or two and rest. After lunch Lady Littletown is coming 
with the carriage to take you for a drive, and I should like 
you to look your best.” 

“ Rie,” exclaimed Clotilde, as soon as they were in their 
room with Ruth, who was debating in her own mind 
whether she ought not to take her cousins into her confi- 
dence about Mr. Montaigne, but shrinking from relating 
the communication to such unsympathetic ears. 

“ Well ? ” 

u You, Ruth, if you dare to say a word about what we 
talk about, I’ll kill you,” cried Clotilde. 

“ I think you may trust me,” said Ruth, smiling. 

“ Then mind you do keep secret,” continued Clotilde. 
“ Rie,” she cried again. “ I can see through it all ; I know 
what it means.” 

“ Do you ? ” said Marie quietly. 

“ Yes, they’re going to sell us both — a bargain.” 

“ Are they ? ” said Marie, who was thinking she would 
like to be sold to Marcus Glen. 

“ Yes, it’s going to be like it was in that novel of 
Georges Sand. We’re to be married to rich old men 
because we are young and beautiful ; and if they marry me 
to one, I’m sorry for the old man.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ Yes, I do,” exclaimed Clotilde, “ else why were we 
dressed up, and sent down to dinner with that old Jew, and 


134 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


that old, yellow Lord Henry Moorpark, when there were 
those young officers there ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Marie thoughtfully, as once more 
her mind reverted to Captain Glen. 

“ Then I do,” cried Clotilde, with flashing eyes. “ I 
should like to be married, and have an establishment, and 
diamonds, and servants ; but if they make me marry that 
dreadful man ” 

“Well, what?” said Marie, with a depth of thought in 
her handsome eyes. 

“ You’ll see ! cried Clotilde ; and thrusting her hand in 
between the mattress and the paillasse, she dragged out 
the highly-moral paper-covered French novel that had lain 
there perdu. 

After the genial thawing of the ice there could be no 
more such severe and cutting behavior as that which 
marked the meeting of Captain Glen and Richard Millet 
with the Dymcox family ; and a day or two later, when the 
two officers were idling about the broad walks, with the 
boy’s eyes watching in all directions, but only to be disap- 
pointed at every turn, they came suddenly upon the party 
taking their morning walk. 

‘ No, my dears,” the Honorable Philippa was saying, in 
reply to a request made by Clotilde ; “ the park is impas- 
sable, for the scenes that take place there are a disgrace to 
humanity, and the Government ought to be forced to in- 
terfere. It is not so very long ago that your aunt and I 
were thoughtfully walking beneath the trees — that glorious 
avenue of chestnuts, that we poor occupants of the Palace 
can only view free from insult at early morn or late in the 
evening — I say your aunt and I were pensively walking 
beneath the trees, when we stumbled full upon a coarse- 
minded crew of people sitting eating and drinking upon the 
grass, and a dreadful-looking man with a shiny head held 
up a great stone bottle and wanted us to drink. . You 
remember, Isabella ? ” 

“ Yes, sister ; and we fled down the avenue, to come, 
upon another party engaged in some orgie. They had 
joined hands in a circle like savages, and one dreadful man 
was pursuing a woman, whom he captured, and in spite of 
her shrieks ” 

“ I think we had better not pursue the subject further, 
Isabella,” said the Honorable Philippa j “ it is not a seemly 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


135 


one in the presence of young ladies. I need only tell you, 
my dears, that they were engaged in a rite popular among 
the lower orders — a sort of sport called ‘kiss-in-the-ring.’ ” 

“ Hush, sister! ” whispered the Honorable Isabella ; “ the 
gentlemen.” 

Poor Isabella’s hands began to tremble in a peculiar, 
nervous way as tall, English-looking Marcus Glen ap- 
proached, appearing so much the more manly for having 
dapper Richard Millet by his side. The lady was not foolish 
enough to imagine that Glen wished to be attentive to her, 
but there was a sweet, regretful kind of pleasure in his 
presence, and when he spoke her withered heart seemed to 
expand, and old affections that had been laid up to dry, 
like sweet-scented flowers between leaves, began to put forth 
once again their forgotten odors, as if they were evoked by 
the presence of the sun. 

The Honorable Philippa looked stern, and would have 
passed on with a bow ; but when her sister put forth her 
trembling hand, and smiled with satisfaction at meeting the 
young officer again, such a line of conduct was impossible ; 
and, as a matter of course, there was a very friendly greeting 
all round. 

The Honorable Philippa felt frigid as she saw Marie’s 
eyes brighten, and that a charmingly ingenuous blush rose 
in her cheeks ; she felt more frigid as she saw the greeting 
between Clotilde and Glen ; for if ever girl looked her satis- 
faction at seeing anyone again, the ascetically-reared Clo- 
tilde was that maiden, and, truth to tell, in the innocency 
and guilelessness of her heart she returned the pressure of 
the young officer’s hand as warmly as it was given. 

As for Richard Millet, he began by blushing like a girl ; 
then, making an effort, he mastered his timidity, and shone 
almost as brightly as his new patent-leather boots, thinking, 
too, how well he managed to get the young ladies all to him- 
self; while Marcus talked quietly, and in a matter-of-fact 
way, to the Honorable Misses Dymcox, till Philippa grew 
•a little less austere, and her hand felt at parting not quite 
so much like five pieces of bone in as many finger-stalls. 

There was another unmistakable pressure from Clotilde’s 
hand, too, and a far more timid one from that of Marie, 
whose eyes wore a curiously pensive look, as the gentle- 
men doffed their hats and went their way. 

It is worthy of note that poor Ruth passed an exceed- 
ingly uncomfortable day, being made aware of what was as 


136 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


nearly a couple of quarrels as could take place between 
ladies. 

The first took place in the drawing-room, where, after 
bidding Clotilde and Marie go and takeoff their things, the 
Honorable Philippa fiercely attacked her sister upon her 
levity. 

“ Shocked , Isabella ! I can find no other word for it — 
shocked ! ” she exclaimed. “ Your conduct to-day with those 
two young men was really objectionable.” 

“ I deny it, sister/’ retorted the Honorable Isabella. 
“ We met two of dear Lady Littletown’s guests whom we 
knew, and we spoke to them. They are both officers and 
gentlemen, and nothing, I am sure, could have been nicer 
than the behavior of Captain Glen.” 

“ Is — a — bella ! ” exclaimed her sister, “ when you know 
what is being arranged. It is like madness to encourage 
the intimacy of those young men.” 

“ Perhaps they wish to be intimate for politeness’ sake,” 
said the Honorable Isabella demurely, though her nervous 
hands were trembling and playing about the puckers of her 
dress. 

“ I declare, sister, you are absurd, you are almost childish; 
as if young men — young officers — cared about politeness 
when there were ladies like our nieces in the case.” 

“ Well, sister,” replied the Honorable Isabella tearfully, 
“ I am sure I don’t know, but for my part I would rather see 
Clotilde and Marie married to Captain Glen and Mr. Millet 
than as you and dear Lady Littletown had arranged.” 

“ And you! ” cried her sister ; “ you were as eager as any- 
one, and you know how it will be for their good. Our family 
will be raised from penury to affluence, and we shall have 
• done our duty. I am sure.” 

“ But it seems very sad, sister — very sad indeed.” 

“ Fie, Isabella!” exclaimed the Honorable Philippa; 
‘‘what would Lady Littletown think if she heard of such 
miserable weakness ? Think, too, what would Lord Henry 
Moorpark or Mr. Elbraham say if they knew that these 
young men were encouraged here. It must be stopped or 
encouraged very coldly indeed. Yes, Markes, what is it? ” 

“This box, please’m, and this little basket, please’m,” 
said the woman. 

“ How often have we told you, Markes, that all these 
things should be left to Joseph to bring up. It is not your 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


137 


duty,” exclaimed the Honorable Philippa. “ Now, let me 
see.” 

The box was directed to her, so was the basket, and 
reading the direction by the aid of her large gold eye-glass, 
she afterwards cut the box-string, and on opening the loose 
lid set free a marvellously beautiful bouquet of very choice 
flowers. 

The basket was opened, and contained another bouquet, 
but there was no message, no letter, with either. 

The Honorable Philippa gazed at the Honorable Isa- 
bella, and that lady returned the meaning gaze ; then they 
sent Markes away with the empty box and basket, leaving 
the elderly sisters to commune alone, and to whisper their 
satisfaction, in spite of a little hanging back on the part of 
the Honorable Isabella, that matters had progressed so 
well. 

Meanwhile there was a cloudiness in the moral atmo- 
sphere upstairs which betokened a storm. 

Ruth saw it and trembled, for hour by hour her cousins 
had seemed to her to change. 

She did not know how it was — in fact, she was puzzled ; 
but the change was very natural. The two girls had been 
treated somewhat after the fashion of flowers, and grown 
on and on in their cool retirement until they had attained, 
to their full development and beauty, though as yet only 
in a state of bud. Then they had suddenly been placed in 
the full blaze of society’s sunshine. 

The effect was what might have been expected. The 
buds had suddenly expanded ; every latent thought of sup- 
pressed womanhood had burst into light and passionate 
life ; every kept-down fancy and desire that had been in 
abeyance had started forth, and the buds were in full bloom, 
just as some choice exotic will in a few hours be completely 
transformed. 

Very little was said for a time, but as the sisters removed 
their walking apparel there was more than one fierce look 
exchanged. 

“ I saw her look at him,” thought Clotilde * “ and I’d 
kill her sooner than she should.” 

“ Such outrageous effrontery,” thought Marie ; “ but she 
does not know me if she thinks I am going to sit down 
quietly and let her win.” 

“ Enjoy your walk, dear?” said Clotilde, attitudinizing 
before the glass, and admiring herself with half-closed eyes. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*38 

“ Oh yes, Clo dear, it was delightful ; but you shouldn’t 
flirt so with that little boy.” 

“ Now that’s too bad, dear,” retorted Clotilde, turning 
half round to smile sweetly at her sister. “ You know 
that it was you. I felt quite ashamed sometimes to see 
how you went on.” 

Ruth’s eyes grew a little more open as she heard this, 
for she thought that poor little Richard Millet seemed to 
be left to talk to her more than he liked. 

“ Oh, nonsense, love,” replied Marie. “ But you don’t 
mean it, you know ; ” and then the sisters smiled most 
affectionately one at the other, and gazed curiously in each 
other’s eyes. 

But as they smiled and looked affectionately at each 
other, they seemed to need an outlet for the wrath 
that was gathering fast, and poor Ruth’s was the head 
upon which this poured. The tears stood in her eyes 
again and again, as first one and then the other displayed 
her irritation in words, pushes, and more than once in 
what seemed greatly like blows, all of which was borne in 
a patient, long-suffering manner. For Ruth was far worse 
off than a servant, the least independent of which class of 
young lady would not have submitted to a tithe of the 
insult and annoyance that fell to the poor girl’s share. 

Upon the present occasion the loud jangling of the bell, 
that was swung about and shaken by Joseph as if he de- 
tested the brazen creation, announced that lunch was 
ready, the mid-day repast by a pleasant fiction retaining 
that name, though no late dinner followed, the evening 
meal taking the form of tea and thick bread, and butter of 
the kind known as “ best Dorset,” and regarding whose 
birth there is always a mystery.” 

The looks of the sisters were anything but bright and 
loving as they went down, followed by Ruth, who secretly 
drew up her sleeve, displaying her white, well-moulded 
arm as she ruefully inspected a black mark — to wit, the 
bruise made by a forcible pinch from Clotilde’s nervous 
finger and thumb. 

The poor girl heaved a little sigh as she drew back her 
gingham sleeve — gingham and alpaca being fabrics highly 
in favor with the Honorable Misses Dymcox — though they 
always insisted upon calling the latter by the name of 
“ stuff on economical grounds. Then she meekly took 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


J39 


her place, grace was said, and the Honorable Isabella pro- 
ceeded to dispense the mutton broth, richly studded with 
pearls of barley to the exclusion of a good deal of meat, 
Joseph giving quite a dignity to the proceedings as he 
waited at table, removing the soup-tureen cover with an 
artistic flourish, and turning it bottom upwards so as not 
to let a drop of the condensed steam fall upon the cloth, 
though a drop reached Ruth, whose fate it seemed to be 
to get the worst of everything, even to the boniest portions 
of the substance of the mutton broth, and the crustiest, 
driest pieces of the day before yesterday’s bread. 

But there was a becoming dignity in Miss Philippa’s 
manners upon the present occasion, and she sipped her 
broth and played with the barley as if she anticipated find- 
ing pearls in place of unpleasant little sharp splinters of 
scrag of mutton bone. 

“ Thank you, yes, Joseph,” she said quietly, as the man 
brought round a very small jug of the smallest beer, and 
poured out a wineglassful each for the elderly sisters, with- 
out froth, so that it might look like sherry, or that 
delicious elderly maiden lady’s beverage known as marsala. 

“ Oh, by the way, sister,” said Miss Isabella, “ did you 
think to mention about town ? ” 

“ No, no, I did not,” said Miss Philippa. “ By the way, 
Joseph, you will order the carriage for nine o’clock to- 
morrow morning.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Joseph, who was handing potatoes 
to the mutton broth. 

“ We must go in good time, for we shall have to visit the 
tailor’s about your new livery, Joseph.” 

Joseph’s jaw dropped like the lower lids of his eyes, and 
a very waxy potato from the disl} as he sloped it down, the 
said potato gambolling gaily across the cloth as if under 
the idea that it was a vegetable cricket-ball, and that its 
duty was to hit Ruth’s high-backed chair wicket fashion on 
the other side. It was, however, carefully blocked by 
that young lady with a spoon, and after a moment’s hesi- 
tation deposited in her soup-plate, her cousins, however, 
eyeing it jealously from old habit, as if they thought she 
was getting more than her share. 

“Be careful, Joseph,” said Miss Philippa with severity ; 
and Joseph was careful as he went on waiting ; but the 
perspiration broke out profusely over his forehead, and he 


140 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


seemed, as ne gazed from one to the other of his mistresses, 
as though the news, so unaccustomed in its way, was 
almost greater than he could bear. 

“ Bring those bouquets from the drawing-room, Joseph,” 
said Miss Philippa, just before the removal of the soup- 
tureen. 

Joseph went out; and, to the astonishment of the young 
ladies, returned with the presents. 

“ Take that one to Miss Clotilde,” said Miss Philippa, 
beaming on the eldest of the young ladies, as she indicated 
the gayest of the carefully built up bunches of flowers. 
“Yes ; and now that one to Miss Marie.” 

The bouquets were handed to the young ladies in turn. 

“ Now remove the soup-tureen,” said Miss Philippa. 

“Oh, aunt!” exclaimed Clotilde, as Joseph left the 
room. 

“ What lovely flowers ! ” cried Marie, holding them to 
her face. 

“Yes, yes; yes, yes ! ” cried Miss Philippa in a highly 
pitched and very much cracked but playful voice. “I 
don’t know what to say to it, I’m sure ; do you, sister? ” 

“ No, indeed— indeed,” cried Miss Isabella, in an imita- 
tion playful tone. 

“ It seems to me that our quiet little innocent home is 
being laid siege to by gentlemen,” prattled Miss Philippa. 

“ And — and I don’t know what’s coming to us,” said 
Miss Isabella gaily, and her hands shook, and her head 
nodded as she laughed, a sad ghost of a youthful hearty 
sign of mirth. 

“But is this for me, aunt?” cried Clotilde, flushing up, 
and looking handsome in the extreme. 

“And this for me, aunt?” cried Marie, whose cheeks 
could not brook the rivalry displayed by those of her 
sister. 

“ Oh, I don’t know, my dears, I’m sure ; but it’s very, 
very, very, very shocking, and you are both very, very, 
very, very naughty girls to look so handsome, and go to 
dinner-parties, and captivate gentlemen.” 

“ And make them lay offerings before your shrines,” 
prattled Miss Isabella. 

“ Floral offerings before your shrines,” repeated Miss 
Philippa, who nodded her approval of her sister’s poetical 
comparison. 

“But, aunt, who sent them?” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


141 

“ Oh, it’s no use to ask me, my dear,” exclaimed Miss 
Philippa. “ There may be a wicked little note inside. I 
don’t know. I don’t understand such things. They are 
beyond me.” 

“ Oh yes, quite beyond us, my dear,” said Miss Isabella ; 
and she laid her hand upon her side as she felt a curious 
little palpitation, and there was a pathetic sadness in her 
withered face, as she began thinking of Captain Glen. 

‘‘ But somebody must have sent them, aunties,” said 
Marie, who dropped into the diminutive, and slightly en- 
dearing, appellative quite naturally, now that she found 
herself being exalted by her relatives. 

“ Oh yes, my dears, of course — of course,” said Miss 
Philippa : “ someone must have sent them. Mind,” she 
cried, shaking one finger, “ I don’t say that those beautiful, 
those lovely exotics were sent to you by Lord Henry Moor- 
park. And I don’t say — no : you don’t say, sister ” 

“ Yes, of course,” cried Miss Isabella, clumsily taking 
up the cue given to her, and shaking her thin finger very 
slightly, for it shook itself naturally a good deal, “ I don’t 
say, Clotilde, my dear, that that delicious and most expen- 
sive bouquet was sent by the great wealthy Mr. Elbraham ; 
but I’ve a very shrewd suspicion. Haven’t you, sister?” 

“ Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” cried Miss Philippa playfully. 
“ A little bird at dear Lady Littletown’s whispered a little 
something in my ear. But it’s very, very shocking, isn’t 
it, sister? ” 

“ Oh yes,” cried Miss Isabella, repeating her sad little 
laugh, her head nodding very much the while ; “ but fie — 
fie — fie ! Hush — hush — hush ! Here is Joseph coming to 
change the plates.” 

Joseph it was, and as he changed the plates, Clotilde 
held her bouquet to her flushed cheeks in turn, and gazed 
at Marie, who held the flowers to her own cheeks, both of 
which were creamy white as some of the blossoms ; and 
she, too, gazed rather curiously at her sister, trying to 
read her meaning in her eyes. 

But nobody paid any heed to Ruth, who looked wist- 
fully at the gorgeous colors in Clotilde’s bouquet, and the 
delicate tints in that of Marie, and she could not help 
wishing that someone sent her flowers — someone, say, 
like Captain Glen. Then she thought of Mr. Montaigne, 
and she shivered, she hardly knew why, as she asked her- 


r 4 2 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


self whether she ought not to have told her auncs of his 
visit and his ways. Then her thoughts were brought back 
to the happy present by Joseph placing a large section of 
“ roley-poley ” pudding before her upon a plate — -not the 
ordinary homely “ roley-poley ” with flaky pastry and 
luscious gushings of the sweetest jam ; but a peculiarly 
hard, mechanical style of compound which kept its shape, 
and in which the preserve presented itself in a rich streak 
of pink, starting from the centre, and winding round and 
round to the circumference, as if cook had turned artist, 
and was tryin'g to perpetuate the neighboring Maze in 
pastry at the least expenditure in cost. 

The cheese which followed was Glo’ster of the ducal 
sound and soapy consistency, and then the empty plates, 
representing dessert, were placed upon the table : there 
was no fruit that day, grace had been said, and the ladies 
rose, Clotilde and Marie being kissed, and advised to 
place their bouquets in water in the drawing-room. 

“ They would look so nice if anyone called, my dears/' 
said Miss Philippa. 

“ Which they might, you know, my darling/’ added 
Miss Isabella, smiling and nodding her head. 

So the flowers were placed in vases, duly watered, and 
the young ladies went up once more to their room, under 
orders to quickly redescend. 

“There!” cried Clotilde maliciously, as soon as they 
were alone, “ I knew it — I knew it ! Ruth ! Cindy ! Do 
you hear ! Go down on one knee, and kiss the hand of 
the future Viscountess or Baroness, or whatever she is 
to be, Lady Moorpark." 

“No, don’t, Ruth,” cried Marie fiercely. “Go and 
salute the future Mrs. Elbraham. Let me see, Clo dear; 
do ladies who marry Jews become Jewesses? ” 

“ Perhaps they do,” cried Clotilde, who had no repartee 
ready. 

Marie laughed. “ Jew — Jewess ! Clo — old Clo ! I won- 
der whether Mr. Elbraham made his money that way ? 
Eh, Clo dear?” 

“ I shall throw the water-bottle or the jug at you 
directly,” cried Clotilde, as she washed her hands. “ Never 
mind : he is rich, and not old. I wouldn’t marry a yellow, 
snuffy old man if he were ten thousand lords. There ! ” 

“ Who’s going to marry him ? ” said Marie scornfully. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*43 


“ You are. You’ll be obliged to,” retorted Clotilde. 

“ I wonder,” said Marie, “ whether Mr. Elbraham is go- 
ing to buy you of aunties, and if so, how much he is going 
to give.” 

Clotilde faced round at this sting. 

“ If you think I’m going to marry him, or if aunts think 
so, they are mistaken ! ” she cried. “ I know what I am 
going to do. I know something that you would give your 
ears to know, my lady.” 

She looked mockingly at her sister, and waved her hand, 
as if wafting a kiss through the air. 

Marie did not respond, but there was something in her 
eyes that troubled Ruth, who, being near, laid her hand in 
a sympathetic fashion upon her arm. 

A summons from Markes put a stop to further conver- 
sation. 

“ What is it, Markes? ” cried Clotilde. 

“Aunts want you,” said the woman roughly. “Gentle- 
men visitors ; ” and before she could be further questioned 
she closed the door. 

“ I know,” cried Clotilde, darting a malicious glance at 
her sister : “ it’s Captain Glen, and he has brought his 
little squire with him. Come along down, and speak to 
Richard Millet, while I talk to the captain. I say, Rie, 
dear.” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ What a nice little husband he would make — quite a 
lady’s page ! 


* My pretty page, look out afar, 

Look out, look out afar,’” 

she sang ; but Marie seemed hardly to notice her, for she 
was very quiet and thoughtful, as she gave a touch or two 
to her hair. 

“ There, that will do ; come along — you won’t be 
noticed.” 

Marie glanced at her sharply, and the blood suffused 
her cheeks ; but she said nothing, only beckoned to Ruth 
to come, and they had nearly reached the drawing-room 
door when they met Markes, who took Ruth into custody. 

u Not you, my dear,” she said quietly — “ you’re to stop ; 
it’s them that’s to go.” 


144 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


As she laid her hand upon the door Clotilde’s heart beat 
fast, while a look of delight flushed her countenance. At 
the same time, though, she wondered that Marcus Glen and 
his friend should have called so soon. 

“The silly old things ! ” she thought ; “ they could not 
see that the bouquets came from the captain and Mr. 
Millet.” 

Then she glanced round to see that her sister was close 
beside her, opened the door, and entered. 

Disappointment ! . 

Seated with their backs to the window were Mr. Elbra- 
ham and Lord Henry Moorpark. The Fates had or- 
dained that they should make their calls both at the same 
hour, and they now rose to meet Clotilde and Marie. 

“ Then they did send the bouquets,” thought Clo- 
tilde ; and her heart sank at the thought of their aunts’ 
innuendoes meaning anything serious. 

Had she or her sister any doubts, they were soon chased 
away, for, though this was made quite a formal visit, there 
was a something quite unmistakable in their visitors’ ways. 

Lord Henry and Elbraham had encountered close by the 
door, and a look of distrust overspread their features as 
they exchanged an exceedingly cool salutation ; but soon 
after their meeting the elder and the younger sisters mat- 
ters seemed so satisfactory, that their breasts expanded 
with quite a brotherly feeling. 

Elbraham had the natural dislike of a man of his stamp for 
one who happened to be high-born, and was by nature re- 
fined and amiable ; while Lord Henry, with his gentlemanly 
notions of polish, felt rather a shrinking from the blatant 
man of the world, whose manners were not always separated 
from the dross that clings to badly-refined metal. But in a 
very short time each saw that he was on a different route, 
and that there was no likelihood of their clashing in their 
onward journey. 

The Honorable sisters were amiability itself, and played 
most cleverly into their visitors’ hands ; while, in spite of 
a feeling of repugnance and disgust at the idea of their 
being, as it were, sold into bondage to men so much older 
than themselves, and so very far from their hearts’ ideal of 
a lover, both Clotilde and Marie felt flattered. 

For as Clotilde listened to Elbraham’s deep voice, and 
gazed unflinchingly in his coarse face, she saw through 
him, as it were, and beyond him, visions of life and gaiety, 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


J 45 


of a* princely establishment, with servants and carriages 
and plate, and for her own special use, the richest of 
dresses, the brightest of bonnets, and jewels as many as she 
would. 

Marie, too, as she listened to the polished, deferential 
remarks of Lord Henry Moorpark, and saw the deep in- 
terest and admiration that beamed from his eyes, could 
not help thoughts of a similiar character crossing her 
mind. Lord Henry was certainly old, but he was the 
perfection of all that was gentlemanly, and his deference 
for the young and beautiful woman to whom he was cer- 
tainly paying his court had for her something that was very 
grateful to her feelings, while it was flattering to her self- 
esteem. 

But interposing, as it were, between them and the visi- 
tors, the frank, manly countenance of Marcus Glen was 
constantly risings before the young girls’ vision, making 
them thoughtful and distant as their visitors chatted on. 
This, however, only added to their attraction, especially 
in Lord Henry’s eyes. To him even the shabby furniture 
and their simple dresses lent a piquancy that he would have 
missed had they been elsewhere, and at last, when he 
rose to take his leave, both gentlemen stepped out into the 
open air feeling as if their paths were in future to be strewn 
with roses, and ready to become brothers on the spot. 

“ Shall we take a walk in the gardens for a few minutes, 
my lord?” said Elbraham, as they stood together outside. 

“With much pleasure, Mr. Elbraham,” replied Lord 
Henry. 

“ Then I’ll just hook on,” said Elbraham. 

He did “ hook on ” — to wit, he took Lord Henry’s 
arm ; and that gentleman did not shrink, but walked with 
the millionaire down one of the broad walks between the 
trim lawns, both for the time being silent. 

“ I’m a man of the world,” said Mr. Elbraham at last. 

11 Indeed,” said Lord Henry. 

“ Yes, my lord, and I’m going to speak out like a man 
of that sort.” 

Lord Henry bowed and smiled, for he had Marie’s great 
dark eyes before him, and the memory was very pleasant 
at the time. 

“Just an hour ago, my lord, when I met you at that 
door, I felt as if we two were to be enemies.” 

10 


146 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Indeed,” said Lord Henry again. 

“ Yes. my lord ; but now I don't think we are.” 

“ Surely not.” 

“ To be plain then, my lord, I am going to propose in 
due form for the hand of Miss Clotilde.” 

Lord Henry stopped short, with his eyes half closed, 
and one foot beating the gravel as if he were thinking out 
an answer to the remark made by the man who held, his 
arm. 

“ Well, my lord, what have you got to say?” 

“ Not much,” said Lord Henry, rousing himself ; “ but 
I will be frank and plain to you, Mr. Elbraham, though no 
one is more surprised at this change in my prospects than I. 
You are going to propose for the hand of Miss Clotilde, 
one of the most beautiful women 1 ever saw.” 

Eh ! ” exclaimed Elbraham, whose jaw dropped, 
“don’t say that.” 

“ But I do say it,” said Lord Henry, smiling, and look- 
ing very dreamy and thoughtful : “ the most beautiful 

woman I ever saw — except her sister — for whose hand I 
shall become a candidate.” 

“ Hah ! ” ejaculated Mr. Elbraham, with a sigh of relief ; 
“ then look here, my lord, under these circumstances ve 
shall be brothers-in-law.” 

“ Probably so.” 

“ Then we’ll have no more ceremony. Look here, my 
lord, I’m a plain man, and I don’t boast of my blood nor my 
position, but I’m warm ; and a fellow can’t find a better 
friend than I can be when I take to a man. I like you. 
You’ve got blood, and a title, and all that sort of thing ; 
but that isn’t all ; you’re a gentleman, without any haw- 
haw, sit-upon-a-fellow airs. Moorpark, there’s my hand, 
and from henceforth I’ll back you up in anything.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Elbraham,” said Lork Henry, smiling, 
for in his then frame of mind the coarse manners of his 
companion were kept from jarring by the roses that meta- 
phorically hedged him in. “ There, then, is my hand, and 
I’m sure we shall be the best of friends.” 

“And brothers,” exclaimed Elbraham, giving Lord 
Henry exquisite pain, which he bore like a martyr, by 
crushing his fingers against a heavy signet ring. “ God 
bless you, Moorpark ! God bless you 1 ” 


4 DOUBLE KNOT \ 


M7 


There was more than a trace of emotion in Lord Henry’s 
eyes just then as he warmly returned the other’s grasp; 
and then they walked on together. 

“I shan’t shilly-shally, Moorpark,” exclaimed Elbraham 
hoarsely. “ I shall send her down a few diamonds and 
things at once. What’s the use of waiting? ” 

“ Ay, what indeed ! ” said Lord Henry, smiling. 
“Besides, my friend, we are too old.” 

“ Well, I don’t know so much about that, Moorpark. 
A man’s as old as he feels, and hang it, sir, when I’m in 
the presence of that woman, sir, I feel two-and-twenty.” 

“ Well, yes ; it does make one feel young and hopeful, 
and as if we imbibed some of their sweetness and youth, 
Elbraham.” 

“ Sweetness and youth ! Ah, that’s it, Moorpark. Sweet- 
ness and youth — they’re full of it. Miss Riversley’s lovely, 
ain’t she ? ” 

“ Truly a beautiful woman.” 

“ That she is,” said Elbraham. “ Though, for the fact 
of that, Marie is not to be sneezed at.” 

“ No, by no means,” assented Lord Henry, whose brow 
knit a little here. “ They are very charming, and thor- 
oughly unspoiled by the world.” 

“ That’s the beauty of them, Moorpark, and that’s what 
fetches me, my dear boy. Lord bless your heart ! with my 
money I could have married a thousand women. I’m not 
boasting, Moorpark, but I can assure you I’ve stood up 
like a stump, and duchesses, and countesses, and viscoun- 
tesses, and my lady this and my lady that, have for any 
number of years bowled their daughters at me, and I 
might have had my pick and choice,” said Elbraham — 
apparently forgetting in his excitement that there was a 
trifling degree of exaggeration in his words, for his efforts 
to get into high-class society had not been successful on 
the whole. 

“ I am not surprised — with your wealth,” said Lord 
Henry. 

“ Yes, I am warm,” continued Elbraham ; “ and the best 
of the fun is, that they were all ready to forget that I was 
a Jew. For I don’t mind speaking plainly to you ; I have 
some of the chosen blood in my veins, though I have 
changed over. But that’s neither here nor there.” 

“ Of course not,” assented Lord Henry. 


4 8 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“And what I like in our beauties is, that they look as if 
they’d got some of the chosen blood in them.” 

“ Ye-e-es,” assented Lord Henry ; “ they are dark, with 
the Southern look in their complexions. But it improves 
them.” 

“ Improves ! I should think it does. Why, look here, 
Moorpark, you saw Clotilde to-day in that plain cotton 
dress thing, or whatever it was? ” 

“ Yes, and she looked beautiful as her sister,” said Lord 
Henry warmly. 

“ She did — she did. But wait a bit, my boy. I’ll hang 
diamonds and pearls round that girl’s neck, and stick tiaras 
in her hair, and bracelets on her arms, till I make even the 
princesses envious — that I will. But now, look here, I’m 
glad we’ve come to an understanding. You’ll dine with 
me at my club, Moorpark? Don’t say no.” 

“ With pleasure, if you will dine with me.” 

“ Done. Where do you hang out ? ” 

“ Four hundred and four, Berkeley Square.” 

“ Say Monday for me, at the Imperial — seven sharp ; 
and we’ll, settle when I come to you.” 

“ At seven on Monday,” said Lord Henry, “ I will be 
there.” 

“ And now I must be off back to town. Good-bye, God 
bless you, Moorpark. One word first : you’ll like to do it 
handsome, of course, in presents, and that sort of thing.” 

“Indeed I shall not be ungenerous as soon as I know 
her tastes.” 

“ Then look here, Moorpark, these things cost money.” 

“ Assuredly.” 

“ Then can I do anything for you ? A few thousands on 
your simple note of hand ? Only say the word. No deal- 
ing — no interest. Just a simple loan. How much ?” 

“ My dear Elbraham,” said Lord Henry, “ you are very 
kind ; but I have a handsome balance at my bank. I am 
a man of very simple tastes, and I have never lived half up 
to my income.” 

“ Then you must be worth a pot,” exclaimed Elbraham. 
“ I mean, you are really rich.” 

“ Well, I suppose I am,” said Lord Henry, smiling ; 
“but I care very little for money, I assure you.” 

“That’ll do,” exclaimed Elbraham, crushing the other’s 
hand once more. “Good-bye. Monday.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


149 


By this time they had reached the spot where their car- 
riages were waiting — Elbraham’s a phaeton, with a magni- 
ficent pair of bays, whose sides were flecked with the foam 
they had formed in champing their bits ; Lord Henry’s a 
neat little brougham drawn by a handsome roan. 

Then there was a wave of the hand, and Elbraham took 
his whip, the bays starting off at a rapid trot, while, having 
let himself into his brougham, Lord Henry gave the word 
“ Home,” and leaned back with the tears in his eyes to think 
how soon he was finding consolation for the coldness with 
which he had been treated by Gertrude Millet. Then he 
felt slightly uneasy, for though he had never spoken to 
Lady Miilet, his visits had been suggestive, and he could 
not help asking himself what her ladyship would say. 

But that soon passed off, as he began to glide into a 
delightful day-dream about beautiful Marie, and to think 
how strange it was that, at his age, he should have fallen 
fairly and honestly in love with an innocent, heart-whole, 
unspoiled girl. 

“ Yes, so different to Gertrude Millet,” he said to him- 
self. “ She loved that young Huish, I am sure.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

LADY MILLET’S CHOICE. 

Rich men are not always to be congratulated, especially if 
they are good-looking and weak. Frank Morrison was 
both, and in early days after her wedding Renee found 
that a loveless marriage was not all bliss. 

But she had marked out her own course, and with the 
hopefulness of youth, she often sat alone, thinking that she 
would win her husband entirely to herself, and that when 
he fully saw her devotion he would give up acquaintances 
whom he must have known before they were wed. 

It was Sunday evening, and she was seated waiting, 
when she heard a well-known step upon the stairs. 

It was quite dinner-time, and she was waiting, dressed, 
for her husband’s return, looking sad but very sweet and 
self-possessed ; and as he entered the room she ran to meet 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


IS© 

him, put her arms round his neck and kissed him on lips 
that had been caressing others not an hour before. 

‘Ah, Renee,” he said quietly, “waiting dinner? So 
sorry, little woman. I could not get near a telegraph 
office, or I would have sent and told you.” 

“ I have not waited long, Frank,” she said cheerfully. 
“ I am so glad you have come back.” 

“ But that is not what I meant, dear,” he replied. “ I am 
only returned to dress. I dine out.” 

“ Dine out, Frank ? ” she said, trying hard not to seem 
troubled. 

“ Yes — obliged to. Two or three fellows at the club. 
Couldn’t refuse. You will excuse me to-night, little one? ” 

“ Oh yes, Frank,” she said quickly, “ if you must go, 
dear. I will not say I am not disappointed ; but if you 
must go ” 

“ Yes, I must, really,” he said. “ Don’t fidget, and 
don’t wait up. There may be a rubber of whist afterwards 
and I shall be late.” 

“ How easy it is to lie and deceive ! ” thought Renee, 
as, with the same calm, placid smile, she listened to her 
husband’s excuses. “ You are going, Frank, to that hand- 
some, fashionable-looking woman ? You will dine with her 
and spend the evening at her house, while I, with breaking 
heart, sit here alone mad almost with jealousy I dare not 
show.” 

Thoughts like these flitted through her mind as she put 
up her face and kissed him before quietly ringing the bell 
for her dinner to be served, and going down to the solitary 
meal. 

Her husband came in for a moment to say good-bye, 
cheerfully, and then she was alone. 

It was a hard and a bitter task, but she fulfilled it, sit- 
ting there calmly, and partaking of her solitary dinner. It 
was for his sake, she said, for no servant must dream that 
they were not happy ; all must go on as usual, and some 
day he would come back repentant to her forgiving arms, 
won by her patience and long-suffering. 

She sat thinking this over and over again later in the 
drawing-room with a sad smile upon her lips, pitying, but 
telling herself that she could be strong enough to fulfil her 
self-imposed task. Not one word of reproach should be 
his, only tenderness and kindness always. She was his 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


r 5 


wife, and would forgive ; yes, had already forgiven, and 
granted him a dispensation for the sins against her that he 
might commit. 

“ Poor Frank, he never loved me as he thought he did, 
but I shall win him yet,” she murmured ; and then started, 
for she fancied that she heard a door close. 

She saw nothing though, and paid little heed, for if it 
was, it might easily be one of the servants in the farther 
drawing-room, one of the set of three, the third being quite 
a small boudoir, where she was seated, while the others 
were only half lit. 

She leaned back in her low chair dreaming of the happy 
days to come, when her husband would return to her, and 
then her thoughts glided off to Gertrude and her projected 
marriage. 

“ I wonder whether J shall have a child,” she thought, 

and if so, whether I shall be, in time to come, as mamma 
is. Poor Gerty ! it seems very shocking that she, while 
caring for another, should be almost forced to accept the 
addresses of an old man like Lord Henry Moorpark. For 
that’s what mamma means,” she said half aloud. 

Then she sat dreaming on, and wondering whether some 
reports she had heard about John Huish were true — re- 
ports of a very dishonorable nature, but which she had 
carefully hidden from her sister. 

“ It may be all scandal,” she murmured ; “ but I am get- 
ting hard now — so soon ! ah, so soon ! Where there is 
smoke, they say, there is fire. Poor Gerty ! Better Lord 
Henry — who seems to love her — than that she should waste 
her days on a worthless man. And yet I liked John Huish. 
Uncle Robert likes him, too, and I never knew him wrong, 
in spite of his retired life.” 

But it would be strange, she thought, if both she and her 
sister should have set the affections of their young hearts 
upon men who upon being tried proved to be unworthy of 
trust, “ Poor Gerty ! — poor me ! ” she said, half laughing. 
“ It is a strange world, and perhaps, after all, our parents 
are right in choosing our partners for life.” 

Then she started once more, for she knew that she was 
not alone, and on turning there, in evening dress, his crush 
hat in his hand, and looking calm, handsome, and sardonic 
enough for an incarnation of the spirit of evil himself, 
stood Major Malpas. 


52 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“Nervous, Mrs. Morrison? Good-evening. Did you 
not hear me announced ? No ? Your carpets are so soft.” 

He almost forced her to hold out her hand to him as 
she sat up, by extending his own, and he took it and raised 
it respectfully to his lips. 

“ But where is Frank?” he asked. 

“ My husband dines out this evening,” said Renee 
coldly. 

“ Indeed ! how unfortunate ! He asked me to run over 
one evening for a cup of coffee and a cigar. Perhaps he 
will return soon.” 

“ Not till quite late,” said Renee, who tried hard not to 
show that she was troubled by the visit. 

“ I am so glad to see you better, Renee,” he said, taking 
a chair near her, and speaking in a low, earnest voice. 

Renee started, for it was the first time since her marriage 
that he had called her by her name ; and as she met his 
eyes she felt that it was also the first time since the same 
event that he had g^zed at her with such bold admiration. 

What could she do ? She could not bid him leave her, 
and, besides, she felt that in a few minutes his gentlemanly 
instincts must lead him to go, and, indeed, what was there 
to fear? He was a gentleman — a friend of her husband — 
and he had called to see them. 

“ How times are changed, Ren£e ! ” he said, after a 
pause, as he gazed at her pensively. “ Once your eyes 
used to brighten and the color flashed into your cheek 
when I came near. Now, it is a dream — a trick of fancy? 
I find you another’s, and you turn from me with coldness.” 

“ Major Malpas,” said Renee quietly, <4 is this a suitable 
way of addressing the wife of your friend? ” 

The mask fell off at these words. 

“ Friend ! ” he cried bitterly, as he drew his chair close 
to the couch on which she sat ; “ he is no friend of mine. 
Friend ! What, the man who has robbed me of all that was 
dear — who has made my life a desert ! Friend ? Renee 
you mock me by using such a word.” 

“ Major Malpas ! ” she cried loudly. 

“ Hush !” he exclaimed, throwing down his hat. “ Hear 
me now, for the time has come, and I must speak, even 
though it be to wound the heart of the tenderest and sweet- 
est of women. Renee, can I call the man friend who 
deliberately forsakes you for the society of a notorious 
woman — an actress ! ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


1 53 


“Friend? No,” cried Renee with flashing eyes, as she 
rose to ring ; but he caught her wrist and stayed her. 
“ No ; nor lie you, if this is your friendship — to come and 
blacken my husband’s name with foul calumny to his wife.” 

“Stop!” he said. “You shall not ring. Calumny! 
foul ! Is it a foul calumny to say that he was driving her 
in the Park to-day, that he is dining with her and her 
friends to-night ? Shame, Renee, that you should speak 
thus to the man who has ever been your slave.” 

“ Major Malpas, I insist upon your leaving me this in- 
stant. There is the door.” 

“ Leave you ! No,” he cried, seizing her other hand, 
and pressing her back in her seat as he fell upon his knees 
at her feet, “ not till I have told you, Renee, that the old 
love never died in my heart, but has grown up stronger, 
day by day, till it has mastered my very being.” 

That same night there was o a party given by Madame 
Dorinde, limited to eight, fairly balanced between the sexes. 
The dinner was to be good, the supply of wines very liberal, 
especially as they cost the hostess nothing. 

But they were a curious collection of guests, such as 
would have puzzled a student of human nature. Certainly 
he would have understood the status of Madame Dorinde, 
a handsome, showy woman, with plenty of smart repartee 
on her lips, and an abundance of diamonds, rubies, and 
emeralds for neck, arms and fingers — the gifts of the ad- 
mirers of her histrionic powers. He would have told you 
that this would be a bright and gay career for a few years, 
and then probably she would drop out of sight. 

There was a pretty, fair girl with good features and the 
glow of youth on her cheeks, putting to shame the additions 
of paint, and who seemed to think it right to laugh loudly 
and boisterously at everything said to her ; there was Miss 
Grace Lister, the first burlesque actress of the day, dark, 
almost gipsy-looking in her swarthy complexion, whose 
color was heightened by the novelty and excitement of the 
scene ; Lottie Deloraine, nee Simpkins, of the Marquise 
Theatre; Frank Morrison and a couple of washed-out 
habituds of the stalls lounged about the room, and the 
assembled company were beginning to wonder why dinner 
was not announced. 

“What are we waiting for, Lory ? ” said Morrison at 
last. “ Aren’t we all here ? ” 


*54 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Only for an old friend of mine. You know him — John 
Huish, said the hostess rather maliciously ; and then she 
added to herself, “ He’ll keep your eyes off Gracy Lister, 
my gentleman.” 

Morrison screwed up his face a little, laughed in a curi- 
ous way, uttered the ejaculation “ Oh ! ” and then smiled 
as the door was opened and a smart soubrette loudly 
announced “ Mr. John Huish ! ” the bearer of that name 
entering hurriedly, looking flushed and full of apologies, 
which were at once received and the dinner commenced. 

It was intended to be free and easy and full of spirit; 
but somehow it seemed as if a spirit of discontent had 
crept in, and from time to time, though there was no open 
unpleasantry, flashes of annoyance played like the summer 
lightning which prefaces a storm over the table with its 
sparkling glass. 

Madame Dorinde had a great favor to ask of her admirer, 
Frank Morrison, and sought to put him in the best of 
humors ; but to her great annoyance she found him pre- 
occupied, for his attention had from the first moment been 
taken up by Grace Lister, and his eyes were being con- 
stantly turned in her direction as, after a time, forgetting 
past troubles and neglect in the gaiety and excitement of 
the scene, Madame Dorinde looked brighter and more 
animated than she had seemed for weeks. 

But this annoyed Huish, who was not long in detecting 
the glances directed by Frank Morrison at the glowing 
beauty of Grace, and he was the more annoyed because, 
just before dinner, he had whispered to the giver of the 
feast : 

“ Have the cards on the table as soon as you can. You 
propose.” 

“ There will be no cards to-night, my friend* so you need 
not expect to win any money,” the hostess had replied ; 
and the young man had bitten his lip, and sat thinking how 
he could turn the little party to his own account. 

“Why, Huish,” Morrison cried gaily, a little later on, 
11 what a canting humbug you are ! I never thought to 
meet you at a party like this ; ” and he smiled significantly. 
“ We always thought you were a kind of saint.” 

“ I am — sometimes.” 

“It’s wonderful,” sneered Morrison. 

“Yes, it is a wonder, my dear fellow ; but you set me 
such an example.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


155 


The two habitues of the stalls nodded to one another 
their approbation of the retort, and Madame Dorinde, to 
calm what threatened to be one ebullition with another, 
called for champagne. 

As the dinner went on, the elements of discord began to 
leaven the party with greater effect, and a calm observer 
would have felt sure that the evening would not pass away 
without a quarrel. Morrison slighted his hostess more than 
once, and a redder spot burned in her cheeks right in the 
centre of a rather unnatural tint, while Huish, out of sheer 
bravado, on seeing how Morrison kept trying to draw Grace 
into conversation, directed his to Madame Dorinde, 

“ By the way, why hasn’t Malpas come ? ” said Morrison 
at last. “ I expected to see him here with little Merelle.” 

“ Better employed, perhaps,” said Madame Dorinde 
tartly ; and the young girl with the youthful look laughed 
very heartily. 

“ I say, Huish,” said Morrison at last, on finding that 
his attentions to Grace were resented by her companion, 
“ I shall see little fair somebody to-morrow. You know 
whom I mean. What tales I might tell !” 

“ Tell them, then,” said Huish sharply ; “ perhaps I 
shall retort by telling too.” 

“ Oh, tut, tut, tut ! ” cried Dorinde. “ Nobody tells 
tales out of school.” 

“ This is not the School for Scandal, then,” said one of 
the habitues of the stalls ; and the fair young lady laughed 
again. 

“ I say, Dorinde,” said Morrison at last, rather uneasily, 
“ why is not Malpas here ? ” and as he spoke he directed 
a peculiar smile at Grace. 

Huish drew his breath hard, but said nothing. He drew 
one of the menu cards close to his plate, wrote something 
on the back, and, waiting his time, doubled it up at last. 

“ Give that to the gentleman opposite,” he whispered to 
a waiter, slipping a florin into the man’s hand. “ Don’t 
say where it came from.” 

The man nodded, and Huish turned to chat gaily with 
Dorinde ; then filling his glass slowly, he directed a side- 
long glance at Morrison as he took the card, glanced at its 
writing, crushed it up in his hand, and closed his eyes, as 
a spasm ran through his countenance and he turned pale 
as death. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


156 

No one else noticed it, and he opened his eyes and 
glanced quickly round to see that the company were all 
busily conversing. Then, rising quietly, he left the room, 
walked slowly to the lobby of the great building, where he 
had left hat and coat, and went out of the house. 

Then he let his excitement have its full vent. 

“ Hansom ! ” he shouted, leaping into the first he saw. 
iC Chesham Place — double fare — gallop.” 

The horse dashed off in answer to the sharp cut of the 
whip, and as it tore along Piccadilly Frank Morrison strove 
to get rid of the fumes of the wine he had been drinking, 
and to think calmly. 

“ She is too pure and sweet and true a woman — I don’t 
believe it,” he said, grinding his teeth. “ Whom I am 
cursed scoundrel enough to neglect. Who could have 
written that? Curse him! that John Huish, of course. 
What a scoundrel he has turned out ! ” 

“ Bah ! what am I railing at? ” he cried. ‘‘Whom do I 

call scoundrel? D n you ! ” he roared, forcing up the 

little trap in the roof of the hansom. “ Faster, man, faster.” 
There was another lash of the whip, and the horse galloped 
furiously. 

“ Scoundrel, indeed ; he is no worse scoundrel than I. 
He is an open roue, while I stoop to all kinds of beggarly 
petty subterfuges to conceal the life I lead. I won’t be- 
lieve it, though ; it is a malicious trick of John Huish’s 
because he was jealous — and he has fooled me. 

“ Well,” he muttered, after a pause, “ a good thing too. 
Pm sick of the whole thing — cards, lose, pay, feast a wo- 
man who does not care a sou for me. Heavens, what a 
fool I am ! John Huish, you have ousted me ; take my 
place and welcome. Ren£e, little woman, I’ll come back, 
and be a good boy now.” 

He said this with a mocking laugh, and then changed 
his position impatiently in the cab, growing, in spite of his 
words, more excited every moment. 

“ How could Huish know?” he said, gnawing his nails. 
“ Impossible ; and, besides, he is too good and tried a 
friend. Suppose he did drop in, what then ? Why, he is 
wiser than I : he prefers the society of a sweet good little 
woman to that of a set of painted animals, who have not a 
scrap of reputation big enough to made a bow for their 
false hair. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*57 


“ There, I’ve been tricked ! ” he exclaimed, as the cab 
turned down out of Knightsbridge and he neared Chesham 
Place. “ Never mind ; I’ll forgive him for fooling me, and 
I’ll try to leave all this wretched, stupid life behind. We’ll 
go abroad for a bit ; or, no, we’ll go yachting — there’ll be 
no temptations there. I’m going to begin afresh. We’ll 
have a new honeymoon, Renee, my little girl. But — but — • 
if that fellow’s words were true ! ” 

The gas-lamps seemed to spin round as he stopped the 
cab, and he leapt out to hastily thrust some money in the 
driver’s hand, and then walked sharply down the Place till 
he came opposite his own house. 

“ Curse it — it can’t be so ! ” he groaned, as he saw the 
dimly-lit drawing-room. “ If it were true, I should go mad, 
or go to the bad altogether. I won’t believe it. Malpas, 
old fellow, I beg your pardon,” he muttered. “ Renee, 
my child, if Heaven will give me strength, I’ll confess to 
you like an honest man that I’ve been a fool and an idiot, 
and ask you to forgive me. 

“ Yes, and she’ll forgive me without a word,” he said, as 
he opened the door, quickly threw off hat and coat, and 
ran up the great stone staircase three steps at a time, then, 
trying to control the agitation that made his heart beat so 
heavily against his side, he threw opon the door, closed it 
hastily, and walked across the faintly-lit room into the 
next, where he could see into the little boudoir with its 
bright furniture, flowers, and graceful hanging-lamp, which 
shed a softened light through the place. 

The next instant he had entered, and was standing there 
face to face with his wife, who with flushed face stood 
trembling before him, supporting herself by one hand upon 
the chimney-piece. 

“ Renee,” he cried, turning white with rage, as his worst 
suspicions seemed confirmed, “ what does this mean ? ” 

“Frank, Frank I” stretching out her hands towards him 
as she tottered a couple of steps and then reeled and would 
have fallen, but he caught her and swung her round on to 
the couch, where he laid her, and stood gazing down for a 
few moments. 

Then, looking dazed, and trembling in every limb, he 
turned round, his eyes rested on the curtains which shut 
off the little conservatory, and with two strides he reached 
them, tore them aside, and then started away. 


IS» 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


It was exactly what he had wound himself up to expect ; 
but his faith in his injured wife was so strong that, as he 
drew back, he could scarcely believe his eyes, and with a 
giddy feeling stealing over him, he stood staring wildly at 
the apparition that he had unveiled. The blood seemed 
to swell in a chilling flood to his heart, and for a few mo- 
ments he could neither speak nor move. 

Then with an electric rush it seemed to dart again 
through every vein in his body, making his nerves tingle, 
and he flew at the man who had crept like a serpent into 
his Eden. 

“ Devil ! ” he cried hoarsely ; and he tried to seize his 
enemy by the throat. 

With a deft movement of the arms, though, Malpas 
struck his hands aside, caught them by the wrist, gave them 
a dexterous twist, and forced the other, stronger man 
though he was of the two, upon his knees. 

“ Fool ! idiot ! ” he said in a low voice. “ Do you wish 
to publish it all over Belgravia ? ” 

“ You crawling, deceitful fiend ! ” cried Frank Morrison, 
making a savage effort to free himself, and succeeding so 
that he closed, and a sharp struggle ensued, which again 
went against the young husband. For his adversary was 
an adept in athletic exercises, and taking advantage of a 
low ottoman being behind, forced him backwards so sud- 
denly that he fell, and in a moment Malpas had him down 
with his hands in neck-tie and knees in his chest. 

“ Are you mad ? ” he said, panting and trying to recover 
his breath ; “ what do you want? ” 

“Your life, you crawling, lying vilain,” gasped Morri- 
son. 

“ Look here, Morrison, be a man of the world,” said 
Malpas quietly. “ So far, I don’t suppose they have heard 
anything downstairs, so why make a scene? If you wish it, 
I’ll meet you in Belgium ; that is,” he added, smiling, “ if 
you consider that your honor has suffered.” 

“ You scoundrel ! ” panted Morrison. “ You have blast- 
ed my home ! ” 

“ Bah ! Don’t go into high sentiment. Blasted your 
home ? Hang it, man, talk sense ! What did you care for 
your home ? Where have you been to-night ? ” 

“ Where I pleased,” cried Morrison, with subdued rage 
in his eyes ; but he lowered his voice. . 


A DOUBLE KNOT* 


159 


“ Exactly, you had your little affair to attend to : why 
should not madame have her guest by way of solace, in the 
absence of so true and faithful a husband?” 

“ You villain ! ” panted Morrison again, as he caught the 
wrists that held him down. 

“ Villlain, if you like to use such strong language, mon 
cher ; but for heaven’s sake be calm — be a man of the 
world ! We don’t live in the old, sentimental Darby and 
Joan days, my dear fellow, but in times when it is fashion- 
able to follow one’s own sweet will. 

“Youarelike the dog in the manger : obstinate — selfish — 
brutal. Go to, my dear friend, and enjoy yourself, but let 
others live and enjoy themselves too.” 

For answer Frank Morrison made a desperate struggle 
to rise, but he was quite helpless under the strong pressure 
of his opponent’s knee. 

“ For goodness’ sake, be calm,’ 1 said Malpas angrily. 
“ Hang it, man, what did you expect in our matter-of-fact 
world ! You brought me here constantly, and you left us 
together constantly. Do you forget that we were old lovers 
before you came between us? There, you are coming to 
your senses, I hope.” 

He stepped away quickly towards the door, and Frank 
Morrison sprang up and made as if once more to seize him, 
but with a violent thrust Malpas sent him backwards and 
was gone. 

Frank Morrison stood motionless till he heard the front 
door close ; then with a moan of anguish he turned 
towards where Rende still lay insensible upon the couch. 

“My punishment!” he groaned; “and I believed in 
her so thoroughly ; I thought her so pure, so sweet that — 
out upon me I I left her, dog that I was, for garbage. 
Curse him ! ” he cried in a paroxysm of rage, “ curse her, 
with her smooth, white, innocent looks ! The whole world 
is blasted with villainy, and there is not one among us 
worthy of a moment’s faith.” 

“ Frank — husband,” moaned a voice, and Renee, pale as 
death, rose trembling to clasp her hands before him. 

He caught them in his, dragged her up savagely, and 
then swung her down upon her knees. 

“ And you, too, of all women in the world ! Curse you ! 
curse you ! may you ” 

“ Frank, my own, I ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


160 

“ Out upon you ! ” he cried. “ I’ll never look upon 
your smooth false face again ! ” 

Choking with her emotion, she tried to speak — to cling 
to him ; but he snatched himself away, and as she fell 
heavily upon the carpet he rushed from the house. 


CHAPTER XV. 

LATE IN THE FIELD. 

“ Why, what’s the matter ? ” 

“ Matter ! ” panted Dick Millet, dancing excitedly into 
Marcus Glen’s room, where the latter was sitting back, 
cigar in mouth, reading the most interesting parts of a 
sporting paper. “ Why, everything’s the matter. While 
you are sitting here at your ease, those two old patriarchs 
have been stealing a march upon us.” 

“ When you get a little less excited,” said Glen coolly, 
“ perhaps you will explain.” 

“ Oh, it’s easily explained : those two — that Jew fellow, 
Elbraham, and that old yellow apricot, Lort Henry Moor- 
park — have been in at the private apartments this hour.” 

“ Visit of ceremony,” said Glen, sending up a little 
cloud of smoke. 

“ Yes, and then they’ve been walking up and down in 
•fhe gardens, talking earnestly together.” 

» While you have been in the Maze and got lost,” said 
Glen. 

“ I tell you they were walking together, and shaking 
hands in the most affectionate manner.” 

“ While you played the spy, Dick ? I say, my lad, that’s 
not square.” 

“ But it’s a horrible sell. My mother was always asking 
those two to our place.” 

“ With matrimonial intentions ? ” 

“ I suppose so. Elbraham never came, but old Moor- 
park often did, and it was on the cards ” 

“ Visiting cards ? ” 

“ No. That he was to be my brother-in-law. I say, 
Glen, who’ is a fellow to trust? ” 

“ But lie was not engaged to your sister ? ” 

n 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


161 


“ No, of course not. Our Gertrude thought a deal of 
another fellow ; but the mater’s word is law, you see, and 
it might have come off. Good heavens ! She will be mad.” 

“ Your sister? ” 

“Not she — the mother. Well, I’m not going to stand it. 
My dear fellow, we are being cut out. ” 

“ Nonsense, my dear boy ; those two are old enough to 
be their grandfathers.” 

“ But they are rich — at least, Elbraham is rolling in 
wealth.” 

“ Then Lord Henry is getting the Jew to do a bill.” 

“ You seem as if nothing would move you, Glen ; I tell 
you I am sure they have been to propose to those girls.” 

“ And if they had, what then ? ” 

“ I should go mad.” 

“ Nonsense ! you’d go and fall in love with someone 
else.” 

“I? with another!” cried the little fellow tragically. 
“ I tell you I never knew what it was to love till now. I 
can’t bear it, Glen ; pray get up, and come and see.” 

“ Nonsense, man, nonsense ! We could call. Wait till 
to-morrow, and we shall meet them in the grounds.” 

“ You’ll drive me mad with your coolness. You can’t 
care for her. Oh, Glen, ’pon my soul, it’s too bad. I 
loved Clotilde almost to distraction, but seeing how you 
seemed to be taken with her, I gave her up to the man I 
looked upon more as brother than friend, and devoted my- 
self to Marie. If I had known, though, I should have 
taken up very different ground.” 

Glen had felt troubled at his little companion’s remarks, 
and he had begun to think seriously of the possibility of 
what he had announced being true ; but the tragic manner 
in which he had spoken of the transfer of bis affections in 
obedience to his friendship was more than he could bear, 
and he burst out into such a hearty fit of laughter that 
little Richard faced round, and marched indignantly out of 
the room. 

No sooner had he gone than Glen began to think, and 
very seriously now. Somehow he seemed to have been 
stirred by Clotilde from the depths of his ordinary calm 
life ; he did not know that he loved her, but the thought 
of her dark, passionate eyes had such an effect upon him 
that he got up and began to pace the room. Never had 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


162 

woman so moved him from his apathy before ; and the 
more he thought of her simplicity and daring combined, 
the more he told himself that this woman was his fate. 

It was plain enough to him, with his knowledge of the 
world, that he was the first who had ever intruded upon 
her maiden repose. He knew that she had led an almost 
conventual life, and that her young heart seemed, as it 
were, to leap to meet him, so that what would have seemed 
brazen effrontery in a girl of several seasons, was in her 
but the natural act of her newly awakened love. 

“ I can’t help it,” he exclaimed at last ; “ she is not the 
sort of girl that I thought I should have chosen to call 
wife; but she is all that is innocent and passionate, and, 
well, I feel sure she loves me, and if she does ” 

He stopped short for a few moments, thinking : 

“ We shall be as poor as the proverbial church mouse; 
but what does that matter, so long as a man finds a wealth 
of love? ” 

He continued his two or three strides backwards and 
forwards, and then threw himself down in his seat. 

“ The girl’s a syren,” he exclaimed, “ and she has be- 
witched me. Hang me if I ever thought I could feel such 
a fool ! ” 

Glen’s folly, as he considered it, increased in intensity 
like a fever. For years past he had trifled with the com- 
plaint — rather laughed at it, in fact ; but now he had it 
badly, and, with the customary unreason of men in his 
condition, he saw nothing but perfection in the lady who 
had made his pulses throb. 

Certainly, as far as appearance went, he was right, for 
nature could have done no more to make her rttractive. 
To what art had made her he was perfectly blind, and, in- 
toxicated by his new delight, he began to think of how he 
should contrive to see her again. 

Glen’s mind went faster than his body, which, in spite 
of energetic promptings, refused to do more than go on in 
a stolidly calm, well-disciplined way, and the utmost he 
would accord, when urged by passion to go and loiter 
about the Palace gardens or the private apartments in the 
hope of seeing Clotilde, was a stroll slowly towards Hamp- 
ton. 

“ I’m not going to behave like a foolish boy,” he said to 
himself. “ I’ve tumbled head over ears in love with her, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


163 

and if I can read a woman’s face she is not indifferent to 
me. Till I have a chance to say so I must wait patiently 
in a sensible way. It would be pleasant, though,, to walk 
as far as Lady Littletown’s and make a call. The old lady 
might, perhaps, talk about her, and I should hear a little 
more.” 

He started with the idea of walking straight to Hampton, 
but he met Major Malpas, who detained him some little 
time. Then he encountered Maberley, the surgeon, and 
had to hear an account about one of the corporals who had 
been kicked by a vicious horse. 

The consequence was that he did not get to Lady Little- 
town’s on that day, while the next was pretty well taken 
up with a march out and other military duties ; but free at 
last, he hurriedly got rid of his uniform, and once more set 
off to walk to Hampton. 

He had hardly seen Dick Millet since he left his quarters 
in dudgeon. They had met at the mess dinner, and also 
during the march out, but the little fellow had held himself 
aloof, and seemed hurt and annoyed. 

“ I must have a talk to Master Dick,” said Glen to him- 
self, as he walked on. “ He’s a good little fellow at heart, 
and I don’t like to hurt his feelings.” 

He had hardly formed the thought when he heard rapid 
steps behind, and directly after his name was uttered. 

Turning round, there was the boy coming on at as nearly 
a run as his dignity would allow. 

“ I say, old fellow, how fast you do walk ! Either your 
legs are precious long or mine are precious short.” 

“ Little of both, perhaps. Take the happy medium, 
Dick.” j 

“ Ah, that’s better,” exclaimed the boy, whose face was 
now bright and beaming. “ I do hate to see you in one of 
those sulky, ill-humored fits of yours.” 

u Yes, they are objectionable ; but where are you 
going ? ” 

“ Going ? I was coming after you. I say, I’ve made it 
right.” 

“ Made what right ? ” 

“ Why, that. I hung about till I saw the Dymcoxes’ 
maid, a regular old griffin ; and when I spoke to her she 
looked as if she would have snapped off my head. Couldn’t 
make anything of her, but I’ve secured the footman.” 

“ Under military arrest? ” 


164 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ No, no, of course not. You know what I mean. I 
tipped him a sov., and the fellow seemed to think I had 
gone mad ; then he thought I meant to have given him a 
shilling, and told me so. I don’t believe he hardly knew 
what a sov. was, and he’d do anything for me now. He’ll 
take letters, or messages, or anything ; and he says that I 
was right.’’ 

“ What about ? ” 

“ What about ? Why, those two ancient patriarchs ; and 
that he is sure the old women are going to make up a 
match and regularly sell the girls. Glen, old fellow, this 
must be stopped.” 

“ How ? ” 

“ By proper advances first, and if diplomacy fails, by a 
dashing charge — an elopement.” 

“ Humph ! ” ejaculated Marcus. 11 Should you inform 
Lady Millet, your mamma, before you took such a step ? ” 

“I should take the lady I had chosen for my wife 
straight home.” 

“ And a very good place, too,” said Glen, who remained 
very thoughtful, saying little till they reached Lady Little- 
town’s gales. 

“ Are you going to call here ? ” 

“ To be sure. Come with me ? ” replied Glen ; and 
receiving an answer in the affirmative to the inquiry as to 
whether Lady Littletown was at home, they were shown 
in, to find to their great delight that her ladyship had been 
over to the Palace that afternoon, and had brought back 
Clotilde and Marie to dine with her and spend the evening. 

“ It will help to form their minds, my dears,” her lady- 
ship had said to the Honorable Misses Dymcox ; “and 
really, now that we have this project in hand, I feel towards 
them as if they were my own children.” 

This was while the young ladies had gone up to 
dress and frighten Ruth by their exigencies and sharp 
ways, after which they had an airing in Lady Littletown’s 
carriage, and were, when the young officers were 
announced, sipping their five o’clock tea. 

“ Now, now, now,” cried Lady Littletown in tones of 
playful menace, as she gave her fingers to the officers in 
turn, “ I shall not allow this sort of thing. You soldiers 
are such dreadful men. You knew my poor children here 
had come over to cheer my solitude, and you mount your 
chargers and gallop over at once.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


165 

“ I can assure your ladyship that my visit was frankly 
intended to yourself, and that I was in utter ignorance of 
your having company ; but of course I am the more 
delighted.” 

Glen had never delivered so courtly a speech before, 
and he felt uncomfortable when he had said it ; but he 
recovered directly as he met Clotilde’s eyes, which were 
fixed earnestly upon his, and her hand spoke very plainly 
as they exchanged salutations, Marie, on the contrary, 
seeming as cold as her sister was warm. 

“ Then that dreadful little Don Juan knew of it,” cried 
her ladyship sharply. “ I shall forbid him the house.” 

“ I assure your ladyship ” began Dick. 

“ Eh ? What, Edward ? ” said Lady Littletown, as 
a servant made a communication to her in a low, respect- 
ful tone. “ Dear me, how tiresome ! My dears, pray 
excuse me a minute, I’m called away. You can give these 
dreadful men a cup of tea each if they will condescend to 
drink it ; ” and she rustled out of the room. 

“ I did not think to have seen you again so soon,” said 
Dick, crossing to where Marie sat, looking pale and 
troubled, while Clotilde rose from her seat, looking fixedly 
at Glen, and walked out into the great conservatory, where, 
of course, he followed. 

Marie turned paler and her breath came faster as she 
made as if to rise and follow them ; but Dick set down the 
emotion to being caused by his presence, and catching her 
hand in both of his, he repeated his words, 11 1 did 
not expect to see you again so soon.” 

“ Let us go,” replied Marie hoarsely. u My sister ; do 
you not see ? ” 

“Yes,” whispered Dick, full of boyish ardor. “But 
don’t — pray don’t go.” 

Lady Littletown was very proud of her conservatory, 
which was kept lavishly filled with the choicest flowers and 
foliage plants. Following on the example of Hampton 
Court, there were oranges of goodly size, with their bright- 
green leaves, yellow fruit, green fruit, and delicious blos- 
soms all growing at the same time. 

It was into this semi-tropical region, where the atmo- 
sphere was redolent of sweet and cloying perfume, that 
Clotilde had slowly walked, her eyes dreamy and downcast, 
and her fingers idling amongst the beautiful blossoms on 
either side. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


1 66 

As Glen' followed, and noted her soft undulating form, 
her bent head with masses of dark hair clustering about 
her neck, he felt his heart go throb, throb, heavily 
and slowly, while his blood seemed to bound through his 
veins. 

Clotilde went on down the central path of the great 
glass-house, and then, without glancing back, she turned 
off at the bottom, where she was completely hidden from 
the drawing-room windows, and it was here that Glen over- 
took her. 

“ Miss Riversley ! Clotilde ! ” he said softly. 

She did- not speak, but he saw her shudder, as if 
a tremor had run through her frame. 

“ Have I offended you ? ” he whispered, holding out his 
hands. 

11 Oh no,” she cried, starting round with her face flushed ; 
and placing her hands in his, she looked up full in his eyes 
for a moment, and then let them fall. 

It was very shocking, very unusual, and it was all 
entirely opposed to the etiquette of such matters, but there 
was a something in Clotilde’s looks and ways that made 
Glen turn giddy ; and he behaved giddily. Some people 
will say it was his fault, some others may blame the lady 
for her want of reserve, but the fact remains the same, that, 
forgetting everything in the moment but the look that had 
spoken so much to his eyes, the young officer pressed his 
lips to the hand that not only seemed to, but did invite the 
caress ; but just then there was a sharp “ Oh ! ” and in an 
instant Clotilde and Glen were admiring the beauty of the 
colors in some caladiums of which Lady Littletown 
was very proud. 

The ejaculation was not uttered by that lady, however, 
but by Marie, who, closely followed by Dick Millet, had 
come down the conservatory tiles silent as a cat and seen 
all. 

“ Clotilde ! ” she exclaimed in a low, angry voice, and 
then she darted an imperious look at Glen. 

“Well, Marie?” said Clotilde coolly, as the rich 
red slowly died out of her cheeks, “ did you find the 
drawing-room too warm, love ? Look, Captain Glen, this 
one is lovely.” 

“ Lovely indeed ! ” cried Marcus, giving a beseeching 
glance at Marie ; but she turned from him scornfully, only 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


167 

to look back at him with a fierce, passionate gaze which 
startled and surprised him, for he did not then realize the 
truth. 

There was nothing to be done then but to go on admir- 
ing the flowers, and as they went from group to group, 
Glen’s feelings were a strange contradiction. His pulse 
throbbed with pleasure, but this was marred by the bitterly 
reproachful look he had received from Marie ; while upon 
catching Dick’s eyes fixed upon him, and receiving a half- 
droll, half-reproving shake of the head from that young 
gentleman, he felt so angry and annoyed at his having 
witnessed the scene, that he could have freely kicked him 
out of the conservatory. 

A gorgeous display of blossoms cultivated to the highest 
pitch of perfection Lady Littletown had gathered together 
in her conservatory, but these nobles of Flora’s train might 
well have felt offence at the treatment they received, for, 
though the occupants of the glass-house babbled and 
talked flowers, any disinterested listener would have been 
astonished at the rubbish that was said. 

“ Ah, you are admiring my pets,” cried Lady Littletown, 
returning hastily ; “ I’m so sorry to have had to leave you, 
my dears. One of my old pensioners was ill, and had sent 
on for some wine I promised. Yes, those are my gloxinias, 
Captain Glen. Delightful, are they not? Did you have 
some tea ? No ! Ah, I see how it is. Next time I receive 
a call at this hour from you military gentlemen, I shall 
have a pot with two teaspoonfuls of soda in it, and then fill 
it up with brandy. You would be happy then.” 

They stayed very little longer, and when at parting, after 
receiving a long, earnest pressure from Clotilde’s hand, 
Glen turned to Marie and took hers, most grudgingly held 
out, he found time to whisper : 

“ Don’t be angry with me ; surely we ought to be the 
best of friends.” 

Marie’s heart gave a great throb as she felt the warm 
pressure of his hand, and in spite of herself she could not 
help her eyes lifting to meet his in a gaze that was full of 
sadness and reproach. 

“ Oh, come, I say, Glen, old fellow,” cried Dick as soon 
as they were well outside the gates. “You do go it, you 
do ! Only just known her.” 

“ Hold your tongue, do. Hang it, Millet, there are 
things a man ought not to see.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


1 68 

“ Oh, very well, then, I’m as blind as a beetle and as 
quiet as a fish. I didn’t see anything ; but, I say, didn’t 
it make Marie cross ! ” 

“ Oh, of course. She was surprised.” 

“ I tried to keep her in the drawing-room, but she was 
nervous and frightened — poor little darling ! — at being 
alone with me, and I was obliged to let her come at last, 
or there would have been a scene.” 

There was something very suggestive of a dapper little 
bantam paying his addresses to a handsome young pullet 
in the boy’s remarks anent the “poor little darling;” but 
Glen was too much troubled just then to pay much heed, 
so his companion prattled on. 

For Glen was not satisfied : he wished that Clotilde had 
not been so yielding. 

Then he excused her. She was so sweet and innocent. 
She had been so restrained and kept down ; all was so 
fresh to her, that her young love, he told himself, was like 
Haidee’s, and like some bird she had flown unhesitatingly 
to his breast. 

It was very delicious, but, all the same, he wished that 
it was all to come, and that she had been more retiring 
and reserved. 

Still she loved him. There was no doubt of that, and 
perceiving that he was dreamy, and strange, and likely to 
excite notice from his companion, he roused himself from 
the reverie. 

“ Well, Dick,” he cried, laughing, “ what have you to 
say now to your story of the patriarchs ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know. I suppose it must be all a flam.” 

“Yes, there’s no doubt about that, and you have wasted 
a sovereign that might have gone in buttonholes and 
gloves.” 

- “ Oh, no — not wasted,” cried the little fellow. “ Deci- 

dedly not. Oh, no, my dear boy, my experience teaches 
me that it is always as well in such matters to have a friend 
at court.” 

“ I say, young fellow,” cried Glen, who had cast off his 
reserve, and was now making an effort to be merry, “ you 
say, ‘ in these affairs ! ’ In the name of common-sense, 
how many love affairs do you happen to have had ? ” 

“ Well, really,” said the boy importantly, “ I don’t 
exactly know. Somehow or another,, I did begin early.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


169 


Glen laughed merrily, and went on chatting away ; but 
somehow the thoughts of Marie’s reproachful eyes were 
mingled largely with those of Clotilde’s longing, loving 
gaze, and there were times when he did not know whether 
he was most happy or most vexed. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A WALK IN THE GARDENS. 

The days glided on with the younger sisters wondering at 
the change that had taken place, for everything now 
seemed to be done with an idea to their comfort. 

Mr. Montaigne called, according to his custom, pretty 
frequently, and he was quite affectionate in his ways. He 
and the Honorable Misses Dymcox had long conversations 
together, after which he used to go, seeming to bless Clo- 
tilde and Marie, he was so paternal and gentle — Ruth 
obtaining, too, her share of his benevolent smiles. 

Then, after a good deal of waiting, came a time when 
Clotilde met Glen alone. The latter did not know that he 
had Dick to thank for the arrangement ; but he it was who 
made the suggestion to Clotilde, by whom the idea was 
seized at once, and the very next morning she proposed 
that Marie and she should have a walk in the gardens 
directly after breakfast. 

“ My head aches a good deal, aunties, and a walk will 
do it good.” 

Miss Philippa looked at her sister, and Miss Isabella 
returned the look. 

“ Well, my dears, as it is far too early for anyone to be 
down from London,” said Miss Philippa, “ I think you 
might go, don’t you, sister?” 

“ Yes, decidedly,” said Miss Isabella ; and the young 
ladies went up to dress, Markes entering the bedroom as 
they prepared for their walk. 

“ But you two ain’t going alone? ” said the maid. 

“ Indeed but we are, Markes,” retorted Clotilde. 

“ But not without your aunts ? ” 

“ Yes, of course. How absurd you are ! ” 

“ Well, things is coming to a pretty pass ! I couldn’t 
have believed it if I’d been told.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


She went out^ and, according to her custom, slammed 
the door, but it was not heeded now ; and soon after, with 
the affectionate kisses of their aunts moist upon their 
cheeks, the two girls strolled along one of the paths in the 
direction of the Lion Gate. 

For a time they were very silent, but at last, after two or 


three sidelong glances at Marie, Clotilde opened the ball 



“Well, dear,” she said, “what do you think of it? 
Marie remained silent. 


“ For my part,” continued Clotilde, “ I think it horrible. 
It’s like being sold into a seraglio. I won’t have him.” 

“ Then why did you accept that bracelet ? ” exclaimed 
Marie shaply. 

“ Because it was very beautiful, my dear sister, because 
I only had a wretchedly common porte bonheur ; and, 
lastly, because it was diamonds, and I liked it.” 

“ But it was like telling the man you would have him.” 

“ Then why did you accept that pearl ring Lord Henry 
sent you, sweet sissy ? ” 

“ For the same reason — because I liked it,” said Marie 
bitterly; “but I’ve hated myself ever since.” 

“ It’s a pity they are so old,” said Clotilde/ “ It would 
be very nice if they were not, for I like the idea of having 
plenty of good things, and being able to spend as much 
money as I like. Why, Rie,” she exclaimed, “ let’s have a 
run through the Maze. We haven’t been since we were 
quite little children.” 

“ Nonsense ! absurd ! ” 

“ Never mind ; let’s be absurd for once. There will be 
no one there so soon as this. I shall go ; you can stay 
away if you like.” 

With a quiet, disdainful look, Marie followed her sister, 
and carelessly began with her threading the devious course 
through the quaint old labyrinth. 

“ How ridiculous of you, Clo ! ” she said at last. 
“ There is not a breath of air, and it is growing terribly 
hot. Come back, there is someone here.” 

“Very well; come back, then,” said Clotilde. “This 
way, Rie.” 

“ No ; that is not the path.” 

“ Yes, it is. I’m sure it is ; and — oh, how strange ! 
Here are those two.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


I'/I 

Marie’s cheeks crimsoned as she found that they had 
come suddenly upon the two officers. That it was a 
planned thing she was sure ; but this was not the time to 
resent it, and she returned the salutations with which she 
was greeted, making up her mind that she would keep 
close to Clotilde the whole time, and prevent a tete-a-iete. 

But such a determination would have been difficult to 
carry out in the gardens, when three people were arrayed 
dead against her. In a maze it was simply impossible ; 
and the guide was not there. 

She never knew how or when they were separated, but 
all at once she and Dick were on one side of a hedge, and 
Clotilde and Glen on the other, and when the boy laugh- 
ingly tried to put matters right, he did it so cleverly that 
they were soon two hedges separate ; then three, and likely 
to be four ; by which time, forgetful of all his scrupulous 
feelings, and Clotilde’s want of perfection in his eyes, Glen 
had clasped her to his heart with a deep, low “ My darling, 
at last ! ” 

“ Oh, no, no, no, Marcus,” she sobbed, as she gently 
thrust him away, and then clung to his arm, gazing piteous- 
ly up at him the while. “You must not. I ought not to 
let you. I feel so wicked and despairing I hardly care to 
live.” 

“ But why, my darling — my beautiful darling ? ” he 
whispered passionately, contenting himself now with hold- 
ing her hands. 

“ Because this is so wrong. My aunts would never for- 
give me if they knew.” 

“That is what I want to speak about, dearest,” he said, 
in a low voice, as he drew her arm through his and they 
walked on. “ May I speak to them ? Let me call and 
ask their permission to come freely and openly to the apart- 
ments. I am only a poor suitor, Clotilde — only a captain 
of cavalry, with very little beside his pay ; but you will not 
despise me for that ? ” 

“ For what? ” she cried innocently, as she gazed up in 
his face. * 

“ For my want of money,” he said, smiling down, and 
longing to clasp her once more in his arms. 

“ I hardly know what money is,” she said quietly. “ We 
have never had any, so why should I care for that ? ” 

“ Then I may speak ? ” he whispered. “ I may be better 
off by-and-by, and we can wait.” 


1 72 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


“ Oh yes, we could wait," sighed Clotilde. “ But no-^ 
no — no, this is madness ! I ought not to talk like this. 
I’ve been very weak and foolish, and I don’t know what 
you must think of me." 

“ Think of you," he whispered, “ that you are all that 
is beautiful and innocent and good, and that I love you 
with all my heart.” 

“ But I’m not good,” faltered Clotilde ; “ I am very 
wicked indeed, and I don’t know what will become of me ; 
I don’t, really.” 

“ Become the woman who will share my fate — the 
woman I shall make my idol. Clotilde, I never saw one I 
could sincerely say such things to till we met, and at one 
bound my heart seemed to go out to meet you. Tell me, 
my darling, that nothing shall separate us now.” 

“ Oh, don’t, pray don’t speak to me like that,” sighed 
Clotilde. “ You don’t know — you can’t know. What shall 
I do ? ” 

“ My dear girl, tell me,” he whispered, as he gazed in 
her wild eyes. 

“ Oh, no, no,” she sobbed. 

“Not give your confidence to one who loves you as I 
do?” 

“ I dare not tell you — yes, I will," she cried piteously. 
“ What shall I do ? My aunts say that I must marry Mr. 
Elbraham.” 

“ Then Millet was right," Glen cried excitedly. “ But 
no, no, my darling, it cannot — it shall not be. Only tell 
me you love me — that I may care for you — guard you — 
defend you, and no aunts or Elbrahams in the world shall 
separate us.” 

“ I — I think — I believe I do care for you,” she faltered, 
as she looked up at him in a piteous, pleading way. 

“ Heaven bless you, sweet,” he cried. “ Then this very 
day I will see them. They are women, and will listen to 
reason. I will plead to them, and you shall help me.” 

“Oh, no, no, no!" cried Clotilde in horrified tones. 
“ That would be to separate us for ever, and — and — and,” 
she sobbed, “ I could not bear that.” 

“ But surely ” he began. 

“ Oh, you do not know my aunts ! ” she said excitedly. 
“ It would only be to force me into that dreadful man’s 
arms. We must not let them know. It would be too 
dreadful.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*73 


“ But, my darling, I think I could show them ” 

“ No, no 1 Don’t show them — don’t try to show them, 
if you love me ! ” 

“ If I love you ! ” he said reproachfully. 

“ Then pray — pray keep it secret,” she said imploringly, 
“for the present.” 

“ But I must see you — I must talk to you.” 

“ Yes, yes ; you shall sometimes. But if they thought 
you spoke to me as you have, I should never see you 
again.” 

“ But what am I to do ? ” he pleaded. 

“ You may write to me sometimes,” she said ingenuously ; 
“ and sometimes, perhaps, we may meet.” 

“ But ” 

“ Hush ! No more now. Oh, pray — pray — pray ! Here 
is sister Marie.” 

Glen did not notice it, but Clotilde recovered her calm- 
ness very rapidly, as, after a very awkward time spent in 
trying hard to keep her from joining the others, Marie 
found out the way for herself, and snubbed Dick so sharply 
that he came up with her looking exceedingly rueful, and 
telling himself that the sacrifice he had made to friendship 
was far too great, and that he ought to have kept to Clo- 
tilde. 

“ Why, Marie,” exclaimed the latter, “ where have you 
been ? ” 

Marie did not reply, only darted an angry glance at her 
sister, and then one full of scorn at Glen, who made a sign 
to Millet, one which the little fellow eagerly obeyed, going 
on with Clotilde, while Glen lingered behind with Marie. 

“ I am not so blind or so foolish as not to see that you 
are displeased with my attentions to your sister,” he said 
in a low voice, which made her thrill with pleasure, in 
spite of the jealous anger she felt. “ Yes, you need not 
tell me,” he continued, meeting her eyes. “ But come, let 
us be friends — more, let us be like brother and sister, for, 
believe me, my feelings towards you are warmer than you 
think. I know that I am no worthy match for your sister, 
but if love can make up for poverty — there, you will not 
be angry with me, for I want you to be my ally.” 

Marie turned to him again to look scorn and anger, but 
as she met his eyes her resolution failed, and it was all 
she could do to keep from bursting into a passionate fit of 
sobbing. 


*74 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ He loves her,” she sobbed to herself ; “ and he cannot 
see her, he cannot know her, as I do.” 

The next moment she was upbraiding herself with her 
own unworthiness, while he was interpreting her silence 
into a more softened feeling towards him ; and when they 
parted a few minutes later, and he pressed her hand, Marie 
felt that if he wished it she could become his slave, while 
somehow Glen did not feel satisfied with his idol. 

The sisters did not speak on their way back, while when 
they re-entered the Palace their aunts were loud in praise 
of the animation their walk had imparted to their coun- 
tenances. 

“ Such news, my dears ! ” cried Miss Philippa. 

“ Such good news, my dears ! ” echoed Miss Isabella. 

“ Mr. Elbraham is coming down to-day,” said Miss 
Philippa. 

“ And he will drive Lord Henry Moorpark down in his 
phaeton.” 

“Yes, my sweet darlings,” said Miss Philippa affection- 
ately. “ I think, dears, 1 would sit quietly in the drawing- 
room all the morning.” 

“ And go up just before lunch to dress.” 

“ Yes, dears. Your new morning dresses have come 
home.” 

“ Oh, have they, aunt dear ? ” cried Clotilde. “ Come 
upstairs, then, at once, Rie, and we'll try them on.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE ANCHORITE IS CONSULTED AGAIN. 

“ I was dreaming of that cursed madhouse last night,” said 
John Huish, “ and so sure as I do something happens the 
next day. I wish I had never seen it. I really shall think 
I am going mad,” he exclaimed, after a few turns up and 
down the room, “ if I come to such absurd conclusions as 
this. Just as if the seeing of a wretched set of lunatics 
could influence a fellow’s life ! And yet it’s very strange ” 
he said, with a peculiar smile. “ I do meet with some 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


175 

adventures just now. Captain Robson cut me dead yes- 
terday. Well, that’s easily explained. He’s a great friend 
of Lady Millet. Anderson asked me for the ten pounds I 
owed him, and I paid him without a word. That was an- 
other of my lapses of memory, I suppose. I wish I could 
forget the unpleasant things, and then, perhaps, there 
would be some comfort in life. 

“ But Gertrude would be worse off than poor Renee, 
who is anything but happy, I hear ; for Morrison is being 
led into all sorts of wild games by that Malpas. What shall 
I do? 

“ I must be half mad,” exclaimed the young man, bright- 
ening up, “ or I should have thought of this sooner. Cap- 
tain Millet ! Why, of course ; and if he fails, why, there’s 
the doctor. Hang it ! he might interfere, and put in a 
certificate saying that it would be the death of the poor 
girl if she is forced into a wedding with that fellow. But 

the old man told me to Oh, what a hesitating fool I 

am ! ” 

Meanwhile matters were progressing in no very pleasant 
way at the Millet’s. Ren6e made no confidant of her 
mother, but clung to her sister, from whom Lady Millet 
heard a portion of the trouble that had fallen upon her 
child. 

“ There, I can’t help it,” said her ladyship. “ I do 
everything I can for you children, and if matters go wrong 
through your own imprudence, you must put up with the 
consequences. There, there, it is a silly young married 
couple’s piece of quarrelling, and they must make it up as 
fast as they can.” 

“ But, mamma ! ” said Gertrude. 

“ Don’t argue with me, Gertrude. Ren£e must have 
been imprudent, and she must take the consequences. She 
had no business to encourage Major Malpas to visit her, 
and I trust that this will be a warning to you when you 
are married.” 

“ Mamma ! ” 

“ Oh yes, I understand you, Gertrude,” said her lady- 
ship ; “ but I know your obstinacy, and I maintain that it 
would be utter madness for you to see that man after your 
marriage.” 

“ But, mamma, you would not think of pressing on that 
affair now Renee is in such trouble.” 


176 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


“ What has that to do with it, child ? What has Rente’s 
trouble to do with your marriage? Lord Henry has been 
put off long enough. I wish you to accept him ; and I am 
convinced that a word, even a look, would make him 
propose.” 

11 Oh, mamma ! ” 

“ Gertrude, I insist ! I know he likes you, and if he is 
to be kept back like this, some scheming woman will 
secure him for some creature or another. Why, it is nearly 
a month since he called, and no wonder, after your icy 
conduct ! I shall take steps at once. Let me see, a dinner- 
party will be best. There, I’m going out ; I’ll resume the 
subject on my return.” 

“ Oh, mamma, mamma ! ” cried Gertrude as soon as she 
was alone. “ But I will not ; I’d sooner die.” 

Lady Millet was put off from resuming the subject on her 
return, and during her absence Gertrude had relieved her 
troubled heart by writing a letter of no small importance 
to herself. 

Next day she was driven to Chesham Place with Lady 
Millet, who left her there while her ladyship went to attend 
to some shopping. 

“ Not been back? ” said Gertrude eagerly, as she gazed 
in her sister’s pale face. 

“ No, Gertrude, not yet,” replied Renee ; “ but he will 
come soon, I hope,” she continued, with a sigh full of 
resignation ; “ I am waiting. And now about your troubles. 
Is this affair to take place ? ” 

“ So mamma says,” replied Gertrude, with a bitter smile. 
“ Like you, I am to have an establishment.” 

“ Oh, Gertrude, sister ! ” whispered Ren6e, kissing her. 
u But it makes it less bitter, now that Mr. Huish has proved 
to be ” 

Gertrude laid her hand upon her lips. 

“ Hush, Renee ! ” she cried. “ I do not know what you 
may have heard, and I will not listen to it. Neither will I 
sit and heard a word against Mr. Huish.” 

“ I will not speak against him, dear,” said Ren6e sadly; 
and she gazed piteously in her sister’s eyes. 

“ And you, Renee ? My poor darling ! your position 
gives me the heartache.” 

“ I shall wait, Gertrude. Some day he will find out my 
innocence and return to ask my pardon. I can wait till 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


177 


then. You see, dear, that, like you, I have faith, and can 
abide my time.” 

In place of returning home, Gertrude persuaded her 
sister to accompany her to her uncle’s, where Vidler 
admitted them both directly, and showed them up to the 
darkened drawing-room. 

It was a curious change from the bright sunshine of the 
street to the gloom within ; but it seemed to accord well 
with the sadness in the sisters’ breasts, and they sat and 
talked to the old man, playing to him as well, till it drew 
near the time for them to return to their respective homes. 

All this time the pale, almost ghostly-looking hand was 
playing about in the little opening, and indicating by its 
nervous action that something was passing in the ordinarily 
calm mind of its owner. 

“ Renee, my child,” he said at last, “ I can hear that 
you are in trouble.” 

There was no reply for a few moments, and then she 
said softly : # 

“ Yes, dear uncle.” 

“ I do not ask you for your confidence,” he said, “ for if 
it is some trouble between you and your husband it should 
be sacred. I dreaded this,” he muttered to himself. 
“ Gertrude, my child, I would not, if I could help it, do 
anything to encourage you to act in disobedience to your 
parents’ wishes, but be careful how you enter on this pro- 
prosed alliance. I like it not, I like it not.” 

Gertrude did not answer, only stole to the opening, and 
pressed her warm fresh lips to the cold white hand. Then 
the young people took their leave, and the yellow-looking 
house in Wimpole Street resumed its wonted aspect of 
gloom. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

BROUGHT TO A DOUBLE HEAD. 

“ Ah, my dearest boy ! ” cried Lady Millet, an evening or 
two later ; “ I did not expect you.” 

“ S’pose not,” said Dick shortly ; “ but I’ve come, all the 
same.” 


12 


i7« 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ You want money, sir, I suppose ; and I will not have 
papa worried.” 

“ No, I don’t want money. I’ve come upon particular 
business.” 

“ Business ! Great heavens, my dear child ! what is the 
matter ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know yet. But, I say, is Gertrude going 
to marry John Huish ? ” 

“ Certainly not — impossible ! I have other views for 
your sister.” 

“ And what are they ? ” 

“ This is a subject I should discuss with your papa, 
Richard ; but you are a man grown now, and I am sorry 
to say papa does not afford me the support I should like, 
so I will tell you in confidence. I believe Lord Henry 
Moorpark will propose directly.” 

“ Do you ? I don’t.” 

“ What do you mean, Dick ? ” cried her ladyship sharply. 

“ That’s what has brought me up to town. Lady Little- 
town has been stealing a march on you, and is trying to 
egg him on to propose elsewhere.” 

“ The wretched scheming creature ! Oh, no, no, it is 
impossible. You are mistaken, my boy.” 

“ Oh no, I am not. The old chap is quite on there at 
Hampton Court. But of course he has no chance.” 

“ Stop ! At Hampton Court? Who is the lady? ” 

“ One of the Miss Dymcoxes’ nieces, living with her 
aunts in the Palace.” 

“ Philippa Dymcox’s niece ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Not a Miss Riversley ? ” 

“ That’s the name, mamma.” 

“ How horrible ! — Riversleys ! Why, they are connect- 
ed with the Huishes. That Mr. John Huish’s father mar- 
ried a Miss Riversley.” 

“Very likely,” said Dick Millet coolly. “That’s the 
lady, all the same — Miss Dymcox’s niece.” 

“ The Dymcoxes ! the paupers ! Lady Littletown’s 
doing ! Oh, that woman ! ” 

“ You don’t like her, then, mamma ? ” 

“ Like her? Ugh ! ” exclaimed Lady Millet in tones of 
disgust ; “ I can soon put a stop to that, my son.” Her 
ladyship compressed her lips. “ But it is all Gertrude’s 


DOUBLE KNOT \ 


179 


fault, behaving so ridiculously about that John Huish. I 
don’t know what she may not have said to Lord Henry the 
other night. He was almost at her feet, and now he shall 
be quite. John Huish indeed ! — a man going hopelessly 
to the bad.” Her ladyship rang. “ There is no time to 
be lost. I must act at once. Lord Henry Moorpark must 
be brought back to his allegiance. Send Miss Gertrude’s 
maid to ask her to step down here,” continued her lady- 
ship to the servant who answered the bell. 

“ What are you going to do ? ” 

“ Arrange for invitations to be sent out at once. Oh, 
Dick, my boy, the stories I have heard lately about Mr. 
Huish’s gambling and dissipation are terrible ! Gertrude 
has had a marvelous escape. It is very shocking, for your 
uncle and father have known the Huishes all their lives. 
Well?” 

“ Richards says, my lady, that Miss Millet went out an 
hour ago.” 

“Out? Gone out?” 

“ Yes, my lady ; and Richards found this note left on 
the dressing-table, my lady, stuck down on the cushion 
with a pin.” 

“ Great heavens ! ” cried Lady Millet, snatching the note 
from a salver; “ there, leave the room.” 

The man bowed and moved to the door, in time to open 
it for Sir Humphrey, who stood beaming at his son, while 
her ladyship tore open the letter and read : 

“ Dear Mamma, — I cannot marry Lord Henry Moorpark. Good- 
bye .” 

“ That’s all ! ” cried her ladyship in a perfect wail. “What 
does it mean ? ” 

“ Looks suspicious,” said Dick. “ Hullo ! ” he con- 
tinued, as the servant reopened the door. “ Can’t see 
visitors.” 

“ Mr. Frank Morrison, sir,” said the man, who looked 
rather scared at seeing her ladyship sink upon a couch, 
where Sir Humphrey began to fan her. 

“ What the deuce does he want ? ” grumbled Dick. 
“ Hullo, Frank ! I was coming to see you about that row 
with our Ren4e. Gertrude wrote and told me.” 

“ My wife here ? ” said Morrison, who was a good deal 
excited by wine. 


i8o 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ What, Ren6e ? No!” 

“ D n ! ” cried the young husband, sinking on a chair, 

and looking from one to the other. 

“ Something fresh, then ? ” cried Dick, growing excited. 
“ Here, why the devil don’t you speak, man ? ” 

“Yes, yes ! why don’t you speak? ” cried Lady Millet 
piteously. “ Oh, Frank dear, what news ? Have you seen 
Gertrude ? ” 

“ No,” he said thickly. “ I want Ren6e.” 

“ Where is she ? Speak, I conjure you ! ” cried her lady- 
ship. 

“ Don’t know,” said Morrison, glancing round. “ Haven’t 
been home for days. Went home this afternoon. Had 
some words and came away again.” 

“ Well, well, go on ! I saw you playing billiards at the 
club.” 

“ Yes,” said Morrison, whose brain was clouded with 
days of excess. “ Went home again just now. Going to 
make it up, and she’d gone. Where is she ? Want her 
directly.” 

Dick stood thinking for a few moments, while her lady- 
ship looked at him as if imploring him to speak. 

“ She’s in it, p’raps,” he said. “ Look here, Frank, can 
you understand me, or have you got D.T. too bad?” 

“ Yes, I understand,” said the young man thickly, 

“ Gertrude’s gone away. We think your wife must be 
in the plot.” 

“ No,” said Morrison slowly, as he gave his head a shake 
to clear it, and stood up angry and fierce, while the others 
hung upon his words as being likely to dispel their fears. 
“ No poor girl ! too much trouble. I’m a villain,” he 
groaned, “ and I struck her to-night ; but — but,” he cried 
excitedly, “ she deceived me. Gone with Malpas. She’s 
false as hell !” 

“ It’s a lie ! ” cried Dick fiercely. “ Here, father, see to 
my mother. It’s a lie, I say ; and you, Frank Morrison, 

you’re a cad to dare to Ah ! ” cried the lad, uttering 

a shrill cry, and he had just time to drive up a pistol as it 
exploded, and save his brother-in-law’s brains from being 
scattered on the wall. 

Then there was a fierce struggle, as Frank Morrison 
strove to direct the revolver at his temples once more, and 
Dick fought with him bravely till overpowered ; but two of 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


181 


the frightened servants ran in, and with their help the mad 
man was secured and held down till the arrival of the 
nearest doctor, a messenger having been also sent for Dr. 
Stonor, who arrived a couple of hours later ; and between 
them the excitement of the would-be suicide was somewhat 
allayed, though he was half mad. 

It was the old story — days and days of heavy use of 
stimulants, till the fevered madness that generally comes 
in its wake had seized upon an already too excited brain ; 
and it was only by the use of the strongest measures that 
the medical men were able to restrain their patient’s vio- 
lence, as he rambled on wildly hour after hour, the burden 
of his incoherent mutterings being, “ My wife 1 my wife ! ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

DICK MILLET FEELS GROWN UP. 

“ Bad ? ” said Dr. Stonor, when he was left alone to attend 
his patient at Sir Humphrey’s. “ Yes, of course he is bad 
— very bad. But I don’t call this illness. He must suffer. 
Men who drink always do.” 

“ But her ladyship, Stonor ? ” said Sir Humphrey ; " will 
you come and see her now ? ” 

“ No,” said the doctor roughly. “ What for ? Nothing 
the matter. She can cure herself whenever she likes. What 
are you going to do about your sister, soldier boy ? ” 

“ I — I don’t know,” replied Dick. “ Ought I to fetch 
her back ? ” 

“ Yes — no — can’t say,” said the doctor. “ Hang this 
man, how strong he is ! Look here, Dick, my boy : here’s 
a lesson for you. You will be a man some day. When 
you are, don’t go and poison yourself with drink till your 
brain revolts and sets up a government of its own. Look 
at this : the man’s as mad as a hatter, and I shall have to 
nearly poison him with strong drugs to calm him down. A 
wild revolutionary government, with death and destruction 
running riot. Think your sister has gone with John 
Huish?” 

“ I’m afraid so,” said Dick, for Sir Humphrey seemed 
utterly unnerved. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


I&2 

“ Don’t see anything to be afraid of, boy. John Huish 
is a gentleman.” 

“ I’m afraid not,” said Dick hotly : “and it isn’t gentle- 
manly to act as he has done about my sister.” 

“ I shall have to get a strait-waistcoat for this fellow. 
About your sister. Bah ! Human nature. Wait till you 
get old enough to fall in love, and some lady — mamma, say 
— wants to marry your pretty little Psyche to an old man. 
How then, my young Cupid ? ” 

Dick changed color like a girl. 

“ I hold to John Huish being a thorough gentleman, my 
boy. He’s all right. I wish Rente’s husband was as good 
a man. Yes, I mean you — you drunken, mad idiot ! I’m 
going to bring you round, and when I’ve done so, I hope, 
Dick, if he ever dares to say a word again about your sister 
Renee ” 

“ You’ve heard then ? ” 

“ Heard ? Of course. Doctors hear and know every- 
thing. Parson’s nowhere beside a doctor. People don’t 
tell the parson all the truth ; they always keep a little bit 
back. They tell the doctor all because they know he can 
see right through them. Lie still, stupid. Ha ! he’s calm- 
ing down.” 

“ Isn’t he worse, Stonor ? ” asked Sir Humphrey. 

“ No ; not a bit. And as I was saying, if, when he gets 
on his legs again, he dares to say a word against his wife, 
knock him down. I’ll make him so weak it will be quite 
easy.” 

“ Well, he deserves it,” said Dick. 

“ Of course he does. So do you, for thinking ill of your 
sister. I’ll be bound to say, if you sent to Wimpole Street, 
you’d find the poor girls there soaking pocket-handkerchiefs. 

“By Jove! yes,” cried Dick, starting at the doctor’s 
suggestion. “ Why, of course. Doctor, you’ve hit it ! 
Depend upon it, they’re gone to Uncle Robert’s, father.” 

“ Think so, my boy, eh ? — think so ? ” said the old 
gentlemaq. “ It would be very dull and gloomy.” 

“Nonsense!” said the doctor. “My dear boy, the 
more I think of it, the more likely it seems to me that they 
have gone there.” 

“ Yes ; that’s it, doctor. Guv’nor, I don’t like to be hard 
on you, but the doctor’s a verypld friend. It’s a nice thing 
— isn’t’ jt- — that our girls should have to go to Uncle 
Robert’^ fqr the protection they cannot find here ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


183 

“ Yes, my dear boy, it is, it is,” said the old man cftieru- 
lously ; “ but I can’t help it. Her ladyship took the reins 
as soon as we were married, and she’s held them very 
tightly ever since.” 

“ Well, we’ll go and see. You’ll stay with Frank Morri- 
son, doctor ? ” 

“ Stay, sir ? Yes, I will. Think I’m going to be dragged 
down here from Highgate for nothing ? I’ll make Master 
Morrison play the shoddv-devil in his Yorkshire mill for 
something. He shall have such a bill as shall astonish 
him.” 

“ Here, fetch a cab,” shouted Dick to the man who 
answered the bell ; and soon after the jangling vehicle was 
taking them to Wimpole Street. 

It was four o’clock, and broad daylight, as the cab drew 
up at Captain Millet’s door, when, in answer to a ring 
which Dick expected it would take half an hour to get 
attended to, the door was opened directly by Vidler. 

“ You were expecting us, then ? ” said Dick, as the little 
man put his head on one side, and glanced from the young 
officer to his father, and back again. 

“ Yes, sir. Master said you might come at any time, so 
I sat up.” 

“ All right, father ; they’re here. What time did they 
come, Vidler ? ” 

“ They, sir.” 

“ Yes — my sisters,” said Dick impatiently. “ What 
time did they come ? ” 

“ Miss Renee came here about half-past ten, sir.” 

“There, dad,” whispered Dick. “And Frank swore 
she’d gone off with Malpas. I knew it wasn’t true. He 
wouldn’t insult a brother officer like that.” 

“ I’m very glad, my boy — I’m very glad,” said Sir Hum- 
phrey feebly ; and Dick turned to Vidler again. 

“ And Miss Gertrude, what time did she get here ? ” 

“ Miss Gertrude, sir? ” 

“ Don’t be a stupid old idiot ! ” cried Dick excitedly. 
“ I say — what — time — did — my — sister — Gertrude — get 
here ? ” 

“ She has not been here, sir,” replied the little man— 
“ not to-night.” 

Dick looked blankly at his father, and, in spite of his 
determination not to believe the story suggested about his 
sister, it seemed to try and force itself upon his brain. 


1 84 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Where is Mrs. Morrison ? ” he cried at last. 

“ Lying down, sir. Salome is watching by her. She 
seemed in great distress, sir, and,” he added in a whisper, 
“ we think master came out of his room and went to her 
when we had gone down.” 

“ Poor Robert ! ” muttered Sir Humphrey. 

“ Master’s very much distressed about her, gentlemen. 
Miss Renee is a very great favorite of his.” 

“ Is my uncle awake, do you think? ” 

“ I think so, sir,” was the reply. 

“ Ask him if he will say a few words to my father and 
me. Tell him we are in great trouble.” 

The little man bowed and went upstairs, returning at the 
end of a minute or two to request them to walk up. 

“ Last time I was here,” thought Dick, “ I asked him 
for a couple of tenners, and he told me never to come near 
him again. A stingy old hunks ! But, there, he’s kind to 
the girls.” 

The little panel opened as Vidler closed the door, and 
Sir Humphrey, looking very old, and gray of hair and 
face, sat looking at it, leaving his son to open the conver- 
sation. 

“ Well, Humphrey, what is it? ” said the voice behind 
the wainscoting. 

“ How do you do, Bob ? ” began the old gentleman. “ I 
— I — Richard, my boy, tell your uncle ; I’m too weak and 
upset.” 

“ We’re in great trouble, uncle,” began Dick sharply. 

“Yes, I know,” said the voice. “ Renee has fled tome 
for protection from her husband. You did well amongst 
you. Poor child ! ” 

“ Hang it all, uncle, don’t talk like that ! ” cried Dick 
impetuously. “ You ought to know that we had nothing 
to do with it. Help us ; don’t scold us.” 

“ I am helping you,” said the captain. “ Ren6e stays 
here with me till she can be sure of a happy home. And, 
look here,” he continued, growing in firmness, “ she has 
told me everything. If you are a man, you will call out 
anyone who dares say a word against her fame.” 

“ It’s all very well, uncle,” said Dick ; “ but this is 18 — 
and not your young days. No one has a word to say 
against Ren6e. But look here, uncle, that isn’t all. Ger- 
trude has gone off.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 185 

“ With John Huish, of course. Ah, Humphrey, how 
strangely Fate works her ways ! ” 

“ But, uncle, they say John Huish has turned out an 
utter swindler and scamp. Last thing I heard was that he 
had been expelled from his club.” 

“ Let them talk,” said Captain Millet quietly. “ I say it 
cannot be true.” 

“But, Bob,” faltered Sir Humphrey weakly, “they do 
make out a very bad case against him.” 

“Then you and your boy can take up the cudgels on his 
behalf. He is son and brother now. There, I am weary. 
Go.” 

“ But Renee — we must see her.” 

“ No ; let the poor girl rest. When you can find her a 
decent home, if she wishes it, she can come.” 

The little wicket was closed with a sharp snap, and 
father and son ga^ed at each other in the gloomy room. 

“ Come back home, Dick,” said Sir Humphrey feebly. 
“ And take warning, my boy : be a bachelor. Ladies in 
every shape and form are a great mistake.” 

Dick Millet thought of the glowing charms of Clotilde 
and Marie Dymcox, but he said nothing, only hinted to his 
father that he ought to give Yidler a sovereign ; and this 
done, they went back into the cab. 

Half an hour later they were back in the room where 
Frank Morrison lay talking wildly in a loud, husky voice. 

“Oh, well, so much the better,” said the doctor, when 
he heard all. “ Capital calming place for your sister at 
your uncle's. And as for Gertrude — bless her sweet face ! 
— your uncle must be right. Bet a guinea he knew before- 
hand. I wish her and John Huish joy, he’ll never make 
her leave her home, and drink himself into such a state as 
this.” 

“ I hope not,” thought Dick; but just then some of the 
ugly rumors he had heard crossed his mind, and he had his 
doubts. 

“ Precious hard on a fellow,” he said to himself, “ two 
sisters going off like that ! I wonder what Glen and the 
other fellows will say. Suppose fate forced me to do some- 
thing of the same kind ! ” 


1 86 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


CHAPTER XX. 

GOING TO COURT. 

Marcus Glen was not a man given to deep thinking, but 
one of those straightforward, trusting fellows who, when 
once he placed faith in another, gave his whole blind con- 
fidence, and whom it was difficult afterwards to shake in 
his belief. He had had his flirtations here and there where 
his regiment had been stationed, and fancied himself deeply 
in love ; been jilted in a fashionable way, smoked a cigar 
over it, and enjoyed his meals at the mess as usual. But 
he had found in Clotilde one so different to the insipid 
girls of former acquaintance : she was far more innocent 
in most things, thoroughly unworldly, and at the same time 
so full of loving passion, giving herself, as it were, to his 
arms with a full trust and faith, that his pulses had been 
thoroughly stirred. She told him of her past, and he soon 
found out for himself that hers had been no life of seasons, 
with half a dozen admirers in each. He was her first lover, 
and he told himself— doubtingly — that she was the first 
woman, and would be the only one, he could ever love. 

Their meetings became few and seldom, and weie nearly 
all of a stolen nature, for there could be no disguising the 
fact that when the young, officer called the Honorable 
Philippa Dymcox was cold, and stately ; and though her 
sister seemed to nervously desire to further Glen’s wishes, 
she stood too much in awe of her sister, and with a sigh 
forebore. 

Dick Millet then had to put his plan in force, and Joseph 
began to grow comparatively wealthy with the weight of 
the Queen’s heads that accompanied the notes he bore to 
the young ladies, and visions of the public-house he meant 
some day to take grew clearer and less hazy in the distance 
than they had formerly seemed to occupy. 

Visits were paid to Lady Littletown’s, and that dame 
was quite affectionate in her ways, but Clotilde and Marie 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


187 


were rarely encountered there ; and when fortune did favor 
Glen to the extent of a meeting, there were no more inspec- 
tions of her ladyship’s exotics, no encounters alone, for 
Lady Littletown was always present, and at last Glen felt 
that, if he wished to win, it must be by extraordinary, and 
not by ordinary means. 

The slightest hint of this seemed to set Dick on fire. 

“ To be sure,” he cried ; the very thing ! We must 
carry them off, Glen, dear boy. Like you know who.” 

“ And do you think our friend Marie will consent to be 
carried off? ” 

“ Well — er — yes ; I dare say she would oppose it at first, 
but the moment she feels certain that her aunts mean to 
force her into a marriage with old Moorpark, I feel sure 
that she would yield.” 

u Ah, well,” said Glen, “ we shall see ; but look here, 
most chivalrous of youths, and greatest among lovers of 
romance ” 

“ Oh, I say, how I do hate it when you take up that 
horrible chaffing tone.” 

“ Chaff, my dear boy ? No, no, this is sound common- 
sense ! 1 do not say that under certain circumstances I 

might not have a brougham in waiting, and say to a lady, 
‘ Here is the license, let us be driven straight to the church 
and made one ; ’ but believe me, my dear Dick, all those 
romantic, elopement-loving days are gone by. We have 
grown too matter-of-fact now.” 

“ Hang matter-of-fact ! I mean to let nothing stand in 
my way, so I tell you ! But, I say, have youheard? ” 

11 About your sisters ? Yes.” 

u Hang it, no ! ” cried Dick angrily ; “ let that rest. It’s 
bad enough meeting Black Malpas at the mess-table, and 
being kept back by etiquette from hurling knives. I mean 
about the dinner.” 

“ What dinner? ” 

“ Dymcoxes’. And we’re not asked. Our dinner’s cold 
shoulder.” 

“ A dinner-party ? ” 

fi Yes ; and those two old buffers are to be there.” 

Dick was right, for a dinner was given in the private 
apartments, where the ladies did their best; but it certainly 
was not a success, and Marie could not help bitterly con- 
trasting the difference between the repast and its surround- 


1 88 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


ings and that given by Lady Littletown. For the Honor- 
able Misses Dymcox had been unfortunate in the purveyor 
to whom they had applied to supply the dinner and all the 
necessaries. All the linen, the plate, the glass, and. above 
all, the ornamentation, had a cheap, evening-party supper 
aspect. There was the plated epergne which showed so 
much copper that it seemed to be trying to out- brazen the 
battered Roman cup-shaped wine-coolers, in each of which 
stood icing a bottle of champagne, quite unknown to fame 
— a wine with which a respectable bottle of Burton ale 
would have considered it beneath its dignity to associate. 
There were flowers upon the table supplied by the pastry- 
cook ; and though a couple of shillings would have supplied 
a modest selection of the real, according to well-established 
custom these were artificial, many of them being fearfully 
and wonderfully made. 

That artificiality pervaded the whole repast, which from 
beginning to end was suggestive of oil-made, puffed-up 
pastry, which would crush into nothing at a touch ; while 
soups, gravies, and the preparations of animal flesh, pur- 
veyed and presented under names in John Bull French, 
with a good deal of a la in the composition, one and all 
tasted strongly of essence of beef, that delicious com- 
bination of tin-pot, solder, resin, and moulten glue, which 
flavors so many of our cheaper feasts. 

To give the whole a distingue air, the London pastry- 
cook had sent down, beside his red-nosed chef and du- 
biously bright stewpans, those two well-known, ghastly- 
white temples, composed of sugar and chalk, which do 
duty at scores of wedding-breakfasts, and then stand in 
the pastrycook’s window afterwards covered with glass 
shades, to keep them from the unholy touch of flies, and 
their sides from desecration by rubbing shoulders with the 
penny buns. 

It was a mistake, too, to engage Mortimer, the gentle- 
man who waited table for the gentry of Hampton Court, 
and invariably took the lead in single-handed places and 
played the part of butler. Mr. Mortimer had been in service 
— the service, he called it— saved money, applied to a rising 
brewer, and taken a public-house “ doing ” a great number 
of barrels per week, so he was informed ; but the remark- 
able fact about that house was that as soon as Mr. Morti- 
mer had paid over his hard-earned savings and taken his 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


189 


position as landlord, the whole district became wonder- 
fully temperate, and, to use his own words, “ If I hadn’t 
taken to paying for glasses of ale myself, and so kept the 
engine going, there would have been next to nothing to 
do.” The result was that in six months Mr. Mortimer 
had to leave the house, a poorer and a wiser man, picking 
up odd jobs in waiting afterwards in the Palace and neigh- 
borhood, but retaining his habit of buying himself glasses 
of ale to a rather alarming extent. 

This habit was manifest upon the entrance of the first 
course, and had greatly exercised Joseph in spirit lest it 
should be detected. In fact, it became so bad by the 
time that the remove in the second course was due, that 
the footman made a strategic movement, inveigling Mr. 
Mortimer into the big cupboard where knives and boots 
and shoes were cleaned, and then and there locking him 
up in company with a glass and jug. 

Perhaps a viler dinner, worse managed, was never set 
before guests ; but to Lord Henry Moorpark it was a 
banquet in dreamland, to Mr. Elbraham it was a feast, for 
from the moment he took down Clotilde to that when the 
ladies rose to return to the drawing-room, he literally 
gloated over and devoured the Honorable Misses Dym- 
cox’s niece. 

Good dinners, served in the most refined style, had lost 
their charm for the visitors, who seemed perfectly satisfied, 
Elbraham’s face shining like a sun when he smiled blandly 
at his vis-a-vis, whose deeply-lined, aristocratic face wore 
an aspect of pleasant satisfaction as he gazed back at the 
millionaire. 

“ I say, Moorpark, they look well, don’t they ? ” said 
Elbraham. 

“ They do, indeed,” assented Lord Henry, smiling. 

“ Make some of them stare on the happy day, I think.” 

“ They are certainly very, very beautiful women,” re- 
plied Lord Henry, smiling and thoughtful. 

“ Eh — what ? Oh, ah — yes : coffee. Thanks ; I’ll take 
coffee.” 

This to Joseph, who brought in a black mixture with 
some thin hot milk and brown sugar to match. Lord 
Henry also took a cup, but it was observable that neither 
gentleman got much farther than a couple of spoonfuls. 


190 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“Well,” said Elbraham suddenly, stretching out his 
hairy paws, and examining their fronts and backs, “ it’s of 
no use our sitting here drinking wine, is it ? ” 

“ Certainly not,” said Lord Henry, who had merely 
sipped the very thin champagne at dinner and taking 
nothing since. 

So the gentlemen adjourned to the drawing-room, where 
certain conversations took place before they left, the effect 
of which was to send Mr. Elbraham back to town highly 
elate, and Lord Henry to his old bachelor home a sadder, 
if not a wiser, man. 

He had found his opportunity, or, rather, it had been 
made for him, and he had plainly asked Marie to be his 
wife. 

“ I know I ask you to make a sacrifice,” he said — “you 
so youthful and beautiful, while I am old, and not pos- 
sessed of the attraction a young man might have in your 
eyes ; but if you will 'be my wife, nothing that wealth and 
position can give shall be wanting to make yours a happy 
home.” 

He thought Marie had never looked so beautiful before, 
as with flushed cheeks she essayed to speak, and, smiling 
as he took her soft, white hand in his, he asked her to be 
calm and patient with him. 

“ I dread your refusal,” he said ; “ and yet, old as I am, 
there is no selfishness in my love. I wish to see you 
happy, my child — I wish to make you happy.” 

“ She has accepted him,” thought Marie ; and her heart 
began to beat with painful violence, for, Clotilde away, 
who could say that Marcus Glen would not come to her 
for sympathy, and at last ask her love. She felt that she 
could not accept Lord Henry’s proposal, and she turned 
her face towards him in an appealing way. 

“ You looked troubled, my child,” he said tenderly. “ I 
want you to turn to me as you would to one who has your 
happiness thoroughly at heart. I want to win your love.” 

“ My — my aunts know that you ask me this, Lord 
Henry ? ” she faltered. 

“ Yes, they know it ; and they wish it, for we have 
quietly discussed the matter, and,” he added, with a sad 
smile, “ I have not omitted to point out to them how un- 
suited to you I am as a match. I throw myself then upon 
your mercy, Marie, but you must not let fear influence 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*91 

you ; I must have your heart, my child, given over to my 
safe-keeping.” 

She looked at him wildly. 

“ Is this hand to be mine? ” he whispered. “ Will you 
make the rest of my days blessed with your young love ? 
Tell me, is it to be ? ” 

“ Oh, no, no, no, Lord Henry,” she said, in a low, ex- 
cited tone ; “ I could not, I dare not say yes. Pray, pray 
do not ask me.” 

“ Shall I give you time ? ” he whispered ; “ shall I wait 
a week — a month, for your answer, and then come again 
and plead ? ” 

“ Oh, no, no, no,” she said ; “ I could — I never could 
say yes. I like you, Lord Henry, I respect and esteem 
you — indeed, indeed I do ; but I could not become your 
wife.” 

“ You could not become my wife,” he said softly. “ No, 
no, I suppose not. It was another foolish dream, and I 
should have been wiser. But you will not ridicule me 
when I am gone ? I ask you to try and think of the old 
man’s love with respect, even if it is mingled with pity, 
for, believe me, my child, it is very true and honest.” 

“ Ridicule ! oh, no, no,” cried Marie eagerly, “ I could 
not do that. You ask me to be your wife, Lord Henry : 
I cannot, but I have always felt that I loved you as — 
like ” 

“ You might say a father or some dear old friend? ” said 
Lord Henry sadly. 

“Yes, indeed yes !” she cried. 

“ Be it so, then,” he said, holding her hand in his in a 
sad, resigned way. You are right ; it is impossible. Your 
young verdant spring and my frosted winter would be ill 
matched. But let me go on loving you — if not as one who 
would be your husband, as a very faithful friend.” 

“ Yes, yes, please, Lord Henry,” she said ; “ I have so 
few friends.” 

“ Then you shall not lose me for one,” he continued 
sadly. “ There, there, the little dream is over, and I am 
awake again. See here, Marie,” he said, drawing a diamond 
and sapphire ring from his pocket, “ this was to be your 
engaged ring : I am going to place it on your finger now 
as a present from the dear old friend.” 

She shrank from him, but he retained her hand gently, 
and she felt the ring glide over her finger, a quick glance 


192 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


showing her that her aunts were seeing everything from 
behind the books they were reading, becoming deeply im- 
mersed, though, as they saw how far matters seemed to 
have progressed. 

Mr. Elbraham’s wooing was moulded far differently to 
Lord Henry’s. 

It was an understood thing that he was to propose that 
evening, the dinner being given for the purpose. 

“ There’s no confounded tom-fool nonsense about me ; ” 
and each time Mr. Elbraham said this he took out of the 
morocco white satin-lined case a brilliant half-hoop ring, 
set with magnificent stones, breathed on it, held it to the 
light, moistened it between his lips, held it up again, 
finished by rubbing it upon his sleeve, and returning it to 
the case. 

“That’ll fetch her,” he said. “My! what you can do 
with a woman if you bring out a few diamonds. I shan’t 
shilly-shally : I shall come out with it plump;” but all the 
same, when by proper manoeuvring the Honorable Misses 
Dymcox had arranged themselves behind books and left 
the two couples at opposite ends of the rooms, while they 
themselves occupied dos-a-dos the ottoman in the centre, 
Mr. Elbraham did not “ out with it plump.” 

He seated himself as close as decency would permit to 
Clotilde, and stared at her, and breathed hard, while she 
returned his look with one that was half mocking, half 
defiant. 

“Been to many parties lately? ” he said at last, nothing 
else occurring to his mind except sentences that he would 
have addressed to ballet-girls upon their good looks, their 
agility, and the like. 

No ; Clotilde had not been to many parties. 

“ But you like ’em ; I’ll bet a wager you like ’em ? ” said 
Elbraham with a hoarse laugh. 

Oh yes, Clotilde dearly liked parties when they were 
nice. 

There was another interval of hard breathing, during 
which Mr. Elbraham took out and consulted his watch. 

The act of replacing that made him remember the ring in 
the morocco case, and he thrust his finger and thumb in his 
vest pocket, but it was not there, and he remembered that 
he had placed it in his trousers pocket. 

This was awkward, for Mr. Elbraham was stout and his 
garments tight. Still, he would want it directly, and he 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


193 


made a struggle and dragged it out, growing rather red in 
the face with the effort. 

This gave him something else to talk about. 

“ Ha ! it’s nice to be you,” he said, dropping the case 
into his vest. 

“ Why ? ” said Clotilde, looking amused. 

“ Because you gal — ladies dress so well ; not like us, 
always in black. That’s a pretty dress.” 

“Think so?” said Clotilde carelessly. 

“ Very pretty. I like it ever so, but it isn’t half good 
enough for you. — That’s getting on at last,” he muttered 
to himself. 

“ Oh yes, but it is. Aunt Philippa said it was a very 
expensive dress.” 

“ Tchh, my dear, rubbish ! Why, I would not see anyone 
I cared for in such a dress as that. I like things rich and 
good, and the best money can buy.” 

“ Do you ? ” said Clotilde innocently; but her cheeks 
began to burn. 

“Do I? Yes; I should just think I do. Look here! 
What do you think of that ? ” 

He took out and opened the little case, breathed on the 
diamonds, and then held them in a good light. 

“Oh, how lovely ! ” said Clotilde softly. 

“ Ain’t they ? ” said Elbraham. “ They’re the best 
they’d got at Hancock’s, in Bond Street. Pretty stiff figure, 
too, I can tell you.” 

“ Are you fond of diamonds, Mr. Elbraham ? ” she said, 
with a peculiar look at him from beneath her darkly fringed 
lids — a strange look for one so innocent and young. 

“ Yes, on some people,” he said. “ Are you ? ” 

“ Oh yes ; I love them,” she said eagerly. 

“ All right, then. Look here, Clotilde ; say the word, 
and you can have diamonds till you are sick of them, and 
everything else. I— hang it all ! I’m not used to this sort 
of thing,” he said, dabbing his moist face with his hand- 
kerchief; “ but I said to myself, when I came to-night, 

‘ I won’t shilly-shally, but ask her out plain.’ So look here, 
my dear, may I put this diamond ring on the finger of the 
lady that’s to be Mrs. Elbraham as soon as she likes? ” 

Clotilde darted one luminous look at him which took in 
his squat, vulgar figure and red face, and then her eyes half 
closed, and she saw tall, manly, handsome Marcus Glen 


1 94 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


look appealingly in her eyes, and telling her he loved her 
with all his heart. 

She loved him — she told herself she loved him very 
dearly ; but he was poor, and on the one side was life m 
lodgings in provincial towns wherever the regiment was 
stationed; on the other side, horses and carriages and ser- 
vants, a splendid town mansion, diamonds, dresses, the* 
opera, every luxury and gaiety that money could com- 
mand. 

“ Poor Marcus ! ” she sighed to herself. “ He’s very 
nice ! ” 

“Come,” said Mr. Elbraham ; “I don’t suppose you 
want me to go down on my knees and propose, do you ? 

I want to do the thing right, but I’m a business man, you 
know ; and I say, Clotilde, you’re the most beautiful gal I 
ever saw in my life.” 

She slowly raised her eyes to his, and there was a wicked 
mocking laugh in her look as she said in a low tone : 

“ Am I ? ” 

“Yes, that you are,” he whispered in a low, passionate 
tone. 

“ You are laughing at me,” she said softly. 

“’Pon my soul I’m not,” he whispered again ; “I swear 
I’m not ; and I love you — there, I can’t tell you how much. 

I say, don’t play with me. I’ll do anything you like — give 
you anything you like. I’ll make the princesses bite their 
lips with jealousy to see your jewels. I will, honor ! May 
I? Yes? Slip it on? I say, my beautiful darling, when 
may I put on the plain gold one ?” 

“ Oh, hush ! ” she whispered softly, as she surrendered 
her hand, and fixed her eyes in what he tol-d himself was a 
loving, rapturous gaze upon his ; “ be content now.” 

“ But no games,” he whispered ; “ you’ll be my wife?” 

“ Yes,” she said in the same low tone, and he raised the 
be-ringed hand to his lips, while the Honorable Isabella 
uttered a little faint sigh, and her book trembled visibly 
in her attenuated hands. 

“ Hah ! ” ejaculated Mr. Elbraham ; and then to him- 
self : “ What things diamonds are ! ” 

Perhaps he would have felt less satisfied if he had known 
that, when Clotilde fixed her eyes upon his, she was look- 
ing down a long vista of pleasure stretched out in the 
future. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*95 


At the same moment, the face of Marcus Glen seemed to 
rise up before her, but she put it aside as she lifted the 
hand that Elbraham had just kissed. 

“ He could not have brought me such a ring as that,” 
she said to herself ; and then, “ Heigho ! poor fellow; but 
it isn’t my fault. I must tell him I am only doing what my 
dear aunts wish.” 

She placed the ring against her deep-red lips and kissed 
it very softly, her beautiful eyes with their long fringed lids 
looking dark and dewy and full of a delicious languor that 
made Mr. Elbraham sit with his arms resting upon his knees 
and gaze at her with half-open mouth, while he felt a strange 
feeling of triumph at his power as a man of the world, and 
thought of how he would show off his young wife to all he 
knew, and gloat over their envy. 

Then a sense of satisfaction and love of self came over 
him, and he indulged in a little glorification of Mr. El- 
braham. 

“ Litton’s a humbug,” he said to himself ; “ I can get on 
better without his advice than with it. Women like a fel- 
low to be downright with them, and say what he means.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

GLEN DECLARES WAR. 

Dick Millet placed a note in his friend’s hand one day 
during parade, and Glen thrust it out of sight on the in- 
stant, glancing sidewise to see if Major Malpas had noticed 
the act, and then biting his lip with vexation at Dick being 
so foolish. 

A good deal of the foolishness was on his own side, for 
had he taken the letter in a matter-of-fact manner, no one 
would have paid the slightest heed, or fancied that it came 
from a lady in a clandestine way. 

But, as is generally the case in such matters, the person 
most anxious to keep his correspondence s secret is one of 
the first to betray himself, and, feeling this, Glen was in no 
very good humor. 

The secret correspondence he had been carrying on with 
Clotilde was very sweet ; but it annoyed him sadly, for his 


196 


A DOUBLE KNOT \ 


was not a nature to like the constant subterfuge. By 
nature frank and open there was to him something exceed- 
ingly degrading in the fact that servants were bribed and 
the aunts deceived ; and with a stern determination to put 
an end to it all, and frankly speak to the Honorable Misses 
Dymcox concerning his attachment to Clotilde, he went on 
with his duties till the men were dismissed. 

“ How could you be so stupid, Dick ! ” he exclaimed, 
as soon as they were clinking back, sabre and spur, to their 
quarters. 

“ Foolish ! ” said the little fellow, with a melodramatic 
laugh ; “ I thought you would like to get your letter. I 
don’t care about keeping all the fun to myself.” 

“ What’s the matter ? ” said Glen, smiling. “ Has the 
fair Marie been snubbing you ? ” 

“ No. Look at your letter,” said the little fellow tragi- 
cally. 

Glen placed his hand in his breast, but altering his 
’ mind, he walked on to his room before taking out the letter 
and glancing at it, then leaping up, he strode out into the 
passage and across to Dick’s quarters, to find that gentle- 
man looking the very image of despair. 

“ Here, what does this mean ? ” exclaimed Glen. “ Why 
did you not send my note with yours ? ” 

“ Did ! ” 

“ Then how is it you have brought it back ? ” 

“That scoundrel Joseph !” exclaimed Dick. “ I won’t 
believe but that it’s some trick on his part, for I don’t trust 
a word he says.” 

“ What does he say, then ? ” 

‘ That they returned the notes unopened, and that — can 
you bear it ? ” 

“ Bear it ! Bear what? Of course — yes ; go on.” 

“ I’ve heard that Clotilde has accepted Mr. Elbraham, 
and they are going to be married directly.” 

Glen stood and glared at him for a moment, and then 
burst into a hearty laugh. 

“ Absurd ! nonsense ! Why, who told you this ? ” 

“ Joseph.” 

“ Rubbish ! Joseph is an ass. The fellow forgot to 
deliver the letters.” 

Dick spoke to him again, but Glen did not hear his words 
in the anger that had taken possession of him. He had, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


*97 


against his will, allowed himself to be swayed by Clotilde, 
and carried on the clandestine correspondence that was 
repugnant to his frank nature ; and now he blamed himself 
for his conduct. 

“ Look here, Dick,” he cried at last, “ we have been 
behaving like a couple of foolish boys ashamed of their 
feelings, and the consequence is we have been unable to 
take the part of those two when they have been urged to 
accept proposals by their aunts.” 

“ Don’t say they ; it is only Clotilde.” 

“ I’ll wager it is Marie as well, my boy ; else why did 
you get your note back ? ” 

Dick looked staggered, and gazed in his friend’s face. 

“ I say, you know, what are you going to do ? ” he said 
at last. 

“ Going straight to the private apartments to see the 
aunts. Come with me ? ” 

“ What, to meet the old dragons, and talk about it? ” 

“ Yes, of course. It is cowardly to hold back.” 

“ That’s — er — a matter of opinion,” said Dick, who 
looked uneasy. “ I — er — don’t think k would be quite wise 
to go.” 

“As you like ! ” said Glen shortly ; and before the boy 
could quite realize the position the door swung back 
heavily and his visitor was gone. 

“Well,” said Dick thoughtfully, 5< I could go through a 
good deal for Marie’s sake, and would give a good deal to 
see her now, but face those two old Gorgons ? No, not this 
time ; I’d rather take a header into the Thames any day, 
and I don’t believe Glen has gone, after all.” 

But he had gone straight to the private apartments, 
rung, and sent in his card to where the Honorable Misses 
Dymcox were discussing preparations for the marriage with 
their nieces in the room. 

“ Captain Glen ! ” exclaimed the Honorable Philippa, 
starting as she read the card : “ so early ! What can he 
want?” 

Marie glanced at her sister, and saw that she looked 
flushed and excited ; but as soon as Clotilde saw that she 
was observed, she returned a fierce, defiant glance at 
Marie’s inquisitive eyes. 

“ Had — hadn’t we better say ‘ Not at home ’? whispered 
the Honorable Isabella. 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


198 

“No: it would be cowardly/’ replied her sister. 
“Joseph, you can show up Captain Glen.” 

Clotilde rose and left the room, and Marie was following: 
but the Honorable Philippa arrested her. 

“ No, my dear, I would rather you would stay,” she ex- 
claimed ; and full of sympathy, but at the same time un- 
able to control a sense of gladness at her heart, Marie 
resumed her seat just as Ruth entered the room. 

The next moment Glen was shown in, and after the 
customary salutations and commonplace remarks asked 
for a few minutes conversation with the ladies alone. 

The Honorable Philippa was a good deal fluttered, but 
she preserved her dignity, and signed to Marie and Ruth 
to withdraw, the former darting a look full of meaning as 
she passed Marcus, who hastened to open the door, the 
latter glancing up at him for a moment, and he smiled 
back in her face, which was full of sympathy for him in his 
pain. 

Glen closed the door in the midst of a chilling silence, 
and returned to his seat facing the thin sisters, feeling that 
the task he had undertaken was anything but the most 
pleasant under the sun. 

He was, however, too much stirred to hesitate, and he 
began in so downright a manner that he completely over- 
set the balance — already tottering — of the Honorable 
Isabella, who felt so sympathetic that she was affected to 
tears. 

“ I wished to have a few minutes’ conversation, ladies/' 
he said, in rather a quick, peremptory tone, “ respecting a 
question very near to my heart, and concerning my future 
happiness. Let me say, then, plainly, in what is meant ta 
be a manly straightforward fashion, that I love your niece 
Clotilde, and I have come to ask your consent to my being 
a constant visitor here.” 

The Honorable Isabella could not suppress it ; a faint 
sigh struggled to her lips, and floated away upon the 
chilly air of that dismal room, like the precursor of the 
shower that trembled upon the lashes of her eyes. 

“ Captain Glen ! ” cried the Honorable Philippa, mak- 
ing an effort to overcome her own nervousness, and dread- 
ing a scene on the part of this downright young man, “ you 
astound me 1” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


199 


“ I am very sorry I should take you so by surprise,” he 
said quietly. “ I hoped that you would have seen what my 
feelings were.” 

“ Oh, indeed no ! ” cried the Honorable Philippa men- 
daciously, nothing of the kind — did we, sister?” 

The Honorable Isabella’s hands shook a great deal, but 
she did not speak — only looked piteously at their visitor. 

“ Perhaps I ought to have made my feelings known 
sooner,” said Glen. “ However, I have spoken now, Miss 
Dymcox, and ” 

“ But, Captain Glen, pray spare us, and spare yourself 
what must be a very painful declaration, when I tell you 
that our niece is engaged to be married to Mr. Elbra- 
ham.” 

“ Then it is true ? ” 

“ Oh yes, perfectly true,” said the Honorable Philippa. 

Glen drew a long breath, and sat for some moments 
silently gazing down at the carpet as if he could not trust 
himself to speak. When he opened his lips again his 
voice was changed. 

“ Am I to understand, madam, that Miss Clotilde Dym- 
cox accepts Mr. — Mr. Elbraham of her own free choice 
and will ? ” 

It required a tremendous effort to get out that name 
“ Elbraham,” but he forced it from his lips at last. 

“ Captain Glen,” said the Honorable Philippa, rising 
and darting a very severe glance at her sister, because she 
did not rise as well, “ this is presuming upon your position 
here as an acquaintance — a very casual acquaintance. I 
cannot discuss this matter with you.” 

“ As you will, madam/’ replied Glen, who felt hot with 
indignant rage. “ May I ask your permission to see Clo- 
tilde?” 

“ To see Miss Clotilde Dymcox? ” said the Honorable 
Philippa, with dignity. “Under the circumstances, I 
think, sister, certainly not.” 

She darted another fierce look at the Honorable Isa- 
bella, who was growing weaker and more agitated moment 
by moment, as she asked herself whether it was possible 
that, in spite of the disparity of their ages, she might yet 
try to soothe Marcus Glen’s wounded spirit, and offer him 
She sympathy of her virgin heart. 

“ I ask it injustice to myself, madam,” cried Glen, “ for 
your niece ” 


200 


A DOUBLE KNOT . 


He was going to say more, but he checked himself, and 
bit his lips. “ Of course, ladies, you would be present.” 

“ Impossible ! ” said the Honorable Philippa grimly. 

“ Don’t — don’t you think, sister,” faltered the Honor- 
able Isabella, “ that — that — Captain Glen might — might 
just see — just see Clotilde — for a few moments ? ” 

“ No ! ” said the Honorable Philippa, with quite a snap 
of her artificial teeth, and the Honorable Isabella seemed 
to shrink back into herself, quite dismayed by her sister’s 
almost ferocious way. 

“ I thank you, Miss Isabella,” said Glen, so warmly 
that the poor old lady’s beart began to palpitate at an un- 
wonted rate, and she trembled and her hands were agitated, 
as if she would gladly have laid them in their visitor’s 
broad palms — “ You decline, then, to allow me to see 
Miss Clotilde ? ” 

The Honorable Philippa bowed, and turned to her sister 
to see if she made as dignified a response to his appeal ; 
but to her horror she saw her sister shaking her head vio- 
lently as Glen now appealed to her in turn. 

u Then, madam,” cried Glen angrily, “ I give you fair 
warning that I shall spare no pains to gain an interview 
with your niece, for I do not, I will not believe that this is 
honest. It cannot be, and I am certain that the poor girl 
has been forced into this engagement. Ladies, I will say 
no more, for I fear that if I do I shall lose my temper. 
Miss Dymcox, good-morning. Miss Isabella, I thank you 
for your show of sympathy ; good-bye.” 

He felt that there could be no excuse for a longer stay, 
and strode angrily from the room ; but he had hardly 
reached the foot of the stairs before he became aware of 
’ the fact that Marie was coming out of the schoolroom, 
where Ruth was now alone and a witness of what passed. 

“ Thank goodness ! ” exclaimed Glen joyously, as he 
sprang forward and caught both Marie’s hands in his, 
making her flush and tremble with the warmth of his greet- 
ing. “ Tell me, dear Marie, the meaning of all this dread- 
ful news.” 

She did not speak, but, giving herself up to the joy of 
the situation, she let her hands rest in his and gazed wist- 
fully in his face, while Ruth sat in her place in the school- 
room and trembled, she knew not why. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


201 


“ You do not speak,” said Glen. “ Tell me, for heaven’s 
sake tell me, that this is all in opposition to your sister’s 
wishes.” 

Marie still gazed wistfully in his face, and her hands, in 
spite of herself, returned the warm pressure of his. 

“ Surely — oh no ; I will not believe it ! ” cried Glen. 
“ It cannot be so. Marie, dear Marie, pray have com- 
passion on me and tell me the truth.” 

“ Do — you wish me to tell you ? ” she said in a low voice 
that trembled with suppressed emotion. 

“ Yes, everything. If you have any feeling for me, tell 
me honestly all.” 

Marie’s hands trembled more and more, and her color 
went and came as she spoke. 

“ I will tell you what you wish, Captain Glen,” she 
said, in her low rich tones ; “ but do not blame me if it 
gives you pain.” 

“ I will not ; only pray put an end to this terrible 
anxiety.” 

There was a few moments’ silence, and then Glen said 
huskily : 

“You know how Clotilde loved me, Marie? ” 

Marie’s dark eyes gazed fully, pityingly into his, but 
there was a slight curl of scorn upon her upper lip as she 
remained silent. 

“ No,” she said slowly, as she shook her head ; “no, I do 
not.” 

“ You — do not ! ” 

Marie hesitated to plant so sharp a sting in his heart, 
but, still, she panted to speak — to tell him that he had 
wasted his honest love upon one who did not value it, in 
the hope that he might turn to her ; but at the same time 
she feared to overstep the mark, and her compunction to 
hurt the man she loved came and went. 

“ Why do you not tell me what you mean ? ” he said, 
pressing one of her hands so that he caused her intense 
pain. 

“ Because I shrink from telling you that Clotilde never 
cared for you in the least,” she said bitterly. 

“ How dare you say that,” he cried. 

“ If she had loved you, Captain Glen, would she have 
accepted Mr. Elbraham for the sake of his wealth ? ” 

He would have dropped her hand, but she held fast, 


202 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


full of passionate grief for him as she saw how deadly 
pale he had turned, and had they been in a less public 
place she would have clung to him, and told him how her 
heart bled for his pain. 

“You are her sister, and could not say that which was 
false,” he said simply. “ Tell me, then, is this all true ? ” 

“ Do you doubt me ? ” she asked, looking full in his 
eyes. 

He held her hands, and looked down in the dark, hand- 
some face that gazed so unflinchingly in his. 

“ No,” he said softly, “ no ; ” and raising one of her 
hands to his lips, he kissed it, and then turned and left the 
place. 

Marie’s reverie, as she stood there holding on£ soft 
hand pressed over the back of the other, where Marcus 
Glen’s lips had been, was interrupted by the voice of 
Clotilde. 

“ Rie ; has he gone ? ” 

“ Yes,” said her sister, with a look of disgust, almost 
loathing, in her face 

“ Poor boy ! I hope he won’t mind much. I say, Rie, 
you can have him now. I’ll make you a present of his 
love. No, I won’t,” she said, flashing into life. “ You 
shan’t look at him. If you do, I’ll tell him such things 
about you as shall drive him away.” 

The sisters stood there upon the stairs gazing angrily 
one at the other, and Ruth, whose heart felt very sore, 
watched them in turn, and thought how hard all this was 
for Captain Glen, and also, with a sigh, how weak he must 
be. 

“ But they are both so handsome,” slfe said to herself 
half aloud ; and then, with a kind of shiver, she began to 
think about Mr. Montaigne. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

LADY LITTLETOWN’S DIPLOMACY. 

Mr. Elbraham had not been long in making up his mind 
to eschew shilly-shallying, and to propose at once. He 
was a clever man of business, and no one knew better than 
he how to work a few shares upon the Stock Exchange 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


203 


and float a company so as to pour thousands into the 
laps of its promoters ; but he had a weak side, and his 
late action was taken a good deal on account of the 
opposition he met with from his private secretary. 

“ Going to dine with the ‘ maids of honor ’ at Hampton 
Court ! ” said this latter gentleman, looking up in astonish- 
ment as his principal announced his intention ; “why, you 
grumbled at having to go to Lady Littletown’s the other 
day, and she does give good dinners.” 

“ Capital,” said the financier, smacking his lips. 

“ But you won’t get anything fit to eat at the Palace.” 

“ My object is to get into better society,” said the 
financier promptly ; “ Dymcoxes are people of position. 
Of course, you know I met them there.” 

“Ah, to be sure; so you did. Well, they certainly 
belong to a good family.” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Elbraham, strutting pompously up and 
down the room. “ Lovely girl that Miss Clotilde ! ” 

“ Well, I don’t know,” said Arthur Litton ; “ she is hand- 
some, certainly.” 

“ Humph ! I should think she is, sir.” 

“ But, I’ve seen many finer women,” continued Litton. 
“ Not my style of girl at all.” 

“ Should think not, indeed,” said Elbraham hotly. 
“ Bah, sir ! stuff, sir ! rubbish, sir ! What do you know 
about handsome women ? ” 

“ Well, certainly,” said Litton humbly, and with a smile, 
as the financier walked away from him down the room — a 
smile which was replaced by a lock as serious as that of 
the proverbal judge, when the great man turned; “I 
suppose my opinion is not worth much.” 

“ I should think not, indeed. I tell you she is mag- 
nificent.” 

“Oh, nonsense, my dear sir,” said Litton warmly; 
“ handsome if you like, but magnificent — no ! You know 
dozens of finer women.” 

“ Maybe, maybe,” said the financier. 

Litton paused for a few moments, tapping his teeth as 
if undecided, till his chief paused and looked at him 
curiously. 

“ Well, what is it ? ” he said, 

“ Look here, Mr. Elbraham,” said Litton, “ I suppose 
we are not very good friends ? ” 


204 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ H’m, I don’t know. You are in my pay,” said the 
financier coarsely, “so you ought to be one of my best 
friends.” 

“ You’ve said too many sharp things to me, Mr. Elbraham, 
to make me feel warmly towards you ; but, all the same, I 
confess that you have done me some very good turns in 
money matters ; and I hope, though I take your pay, that 
I am too much of a gentleman to stand by and see anyone 
take a mean advantage of a weakness on your part.” 

“ Weakness ? My part ! ” said the financier fiercely, as 
if the very idea of his being weak was absurd. 

“ Yes, sir, weakness. Look here, Mr. Elbraham, I should 
not like to see you taken in.” 

“ What do you mean, sir ? ” 

“ Mean ? ” said Litton. “ Well, Mr. Elbraham, I’m not 
afraid of you ; so whether you are offended or not, I shall 
speak out.” 

“Then speak out, sir, and don’t shilly-shally.” 

“ Well, sir, it seems to me that there’s a good deal of 
fortune-hunting about. Those Dymcox people have good 
blood, certainly, but they’re as poor as rats, and I’ll be 
bound to say nothing would please the old aunts better than 
hooking you, with one of those girls for a bait.” 

“ Will you have the goodness to reply to that batch of 
letters, Mr. Litton? ” said Elbraham haughtily. “ I asked 
your opinion — or, rather, gave you my opinion — of Miss 
Clotilde Dymcox, and you favor me with a pack of imper- 
tinent insinuations regarding the family at Hampton Court.” 
Mr. Elbraham went angrily out into the hall to don his 
light and tight overcoat and gray hat, and walk down to 
the station. 

As Litton heard the door close he sank back in his chair 
at the writing-table, and laughed silently and heartily. 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” he ejaculated ; “ and this is your clever 
financier — this is your man far above the ordinary race in 
shrewdness ! Why am I not wealthy, too, when I can turn 
the scoundrel round my finger, clever as he believes he is ? 
Clever, talented, great ! Why, if I metaphorically pull his 
tail like one would that of a pig, saying, ‘ You shan’t go 
that way !’ he grunts savagely, and makes straight for the 
hole.” 

Arthur Litton took one of Mr. Elbraham’s choice cigars 
from his case, deliberately pitched aside the letters he had 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


205 


to answers, struck a light, placed his heels upon the table, 
and, balancing his chair upon two legs, began to smoke. 

“ Well, so far so good,” he said at last, as he watched 
the aromatic rings of smoke ascend towards the ceiling. 
“ I suppose it is so. Mr. Elbraham is one of the cleverest 
men on ’Change, and he manages the money-making world. 
I can manage Mr. Elbraham. Ergo , I am a cleverer man 
than the great financier ; but he makes his thousands where 
I make shillings and pence. Why is this ? ” 

The answer was all smoke ; and satisfactory as that 
aromatic, sedative vapor was in the mouth, it was lighter 
than the air upon which it rose, and Arthur Litton con- 
tinued his soliloquizing. 

“ I’m afraid that I shall never make any money upon 
’Change, or by bolstering up bad companies, and robbing 
the widow, the orphan, the retired officer, and the poor 
parson of their savings. It is not my way. I should have 
no compunction if they were fools enough to throw me 
their money. I should take it and spend it, as Elbraham 
and a score more such scoundrels spend theirs. What 
does it matter ? What is the difference to him between 
having a few hundred pounds more or less in this world ? 
They talk about starvation when their incomes are more 
than mine. They say they are beggared when they have 
hundreds left. Genteel poverty is one of the greatest shams 
under the sun. 

“ Not a bad cigar,” he said, after a fresh pause. “ He 
has that virtue in him, certainly, he does get good cigars ; 
and money ! money ! money ! how he does get money — 
a scoundrel ! — while I get none, or next to none. Well, 
well, I think I am pulling the strings in a way that should 
satisfy the most exacting of Lady Littletowns, and it is ridi- 
culous how the scoundrel of a puppet dances to the tune 
I play.” 

He laughed in a way that would have made his fortune 
had he played Mephistopheles upon the stage. Then, 
carefully removing a good inch and a half of ash : 

“ And now, my sweet old match-maker,” he continued, 
“ will you keep your promise ? I am a poor unlucky 
devil, and the only way to save me is by settling me with 
a rich wife such as she promises. 

“ Hum, yes !” he said softly, “a wife with a good for- 
tune. Elbraham takes one without a penny, for the sake 
of her looks ; the aunts sell the girl for the sake of his 


20 6 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


money. A cheerful marriage, and/’ he added cynically, 
“ as the French say, cipres ? ” 

“ Take my case, as I am in a humor for philosophizing. 
I am to be introduced to a rich lady, and shall marry her 
for the sake of the fortune. She will marry me for my 
youth, I suppose, and good looks — I suppose I may say 
good looks,” he continued, rising, crossing the room, and 
gazing in the glass. “ Yes, Arthur, you may add good 
looks, for you are a gentlemanly fellow, and just of age to 
attract a woman who is decidedly off color.” 

He paused, rested his elbows upon the chimney-piece, 
and kept on puffing little clouds of smoke against the mirror, 
watching them curiously as they obliterated his reflection 
for the moment, and then rolled slowly up, singularly close 
to the glass. 

He did this again and again, watching his dimly-seen 
reflection till it had grown plain, and then he laughed as if 
amused. 

“ Yes, I am decidedly good-looking, and I say it without 
vanity,’’ he continued, “ for I am looking at myself from a 
marketable point of view. And the lady? Suppose I 
always look at her through the clouds, for she will be elderly 
and plain — of that I may rest assured ; but I can gild her ; 
she will be gilded for me, and as the Scots say, ‘ a’ cats 
are gray i’ the dark,’ so why should I mind? If I wed 
the fairest woman under the sun I should forget her looks 
in a week, while other men worried me by their admiration. 
So there it is, ladies and gentleman ; the fair Clotilde and 
the manly Arthur Litton about to be sold by Society’s prize- 
auction to the highest bidders, and this is the land where 
slavery is unknown — the land of the free ! This, ladies 
and gentlemen, is Christian England ! ” 

He seemed to be highly amused at this idea, and laughed 
and gazed at himself in the glass as if perfectly satisfied 
that his face would make a change in his lot, after which 
he threw away the remains of the cigar he was smoking, 
and taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, he walked 
across to Elbraham’s cabinet, which he unlocked, and 
helped himself to a couple of the best Rothschilds, one of 
which he lit. 

Arthur Litton was very thoughtful now, and it took somf 
time to get to work ; but he finished the task entrusted to 
him, and then, after a little consideration, he rose to go, 
making his way to Lady Littletown’s. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


207 


Her ladyship was at home, in the conservatory, the foot- 
man said ; and treating the visitor as an old friend, he 
opened the drawing-room door, and Litton walked in 
unannounced. 

Her ladyship was busy in a pair of white kid gloves, 
snipping off faded leaves and flowers, and she left her 
occupation to greet her visitor. 

“ Well Arturo, no bad news, I hope ? ” 

“ Only that the great Potiphar, the man of money, is 
completely hooked, and determined to embark upon the 
troubled sea of matrimony.’' 

“Is that bad news?” said her ladyship. “ I call it a 
triumph of diplomacy, Arturo. Spoils from the enemy ! ” 

“ Then you are satisfied? ” 

“ More than satisfied, my clever diplomat, and you shall 
have your reward.” 

“ When?” 

Lady Littletown snipped here and snipped there, treat- 
ing some of her choicest flowers in a way what would have 
maddened her head gardener had he seen, for unfad^d 
flowers dropped here and there beneath the stands in ^ 
way that showed her ladyship to be highly excited. 

“ Now look here, Arturo,” she exclaimed at last, as she 
turned upon him, and seemed to menace him with her 
sharp-pointed scissors, which poked and snipped at him 
till a by-stander might have imagined that Lady Littletown 
took him for a flower whose head gave her offence — “ Now 
look here, Arturo, do you want to make me angry ? ” 

“ No, indeed no,” he cried deprecatingly. 

“ Then why do you ask me such a question as that ? ” 

“ Well,” he said, smiling, “ is it not reasonable that I 
should feel impatient ? ” 

“ Perhaps so. I’ll grant it ; but, my good boy, you must 
be a man of the world ; and now that we are upon that 
subject, let us understand one another.” 

“ By all means,” assented Litton eagerly. 

“ First of all, though, I cannot worry myself with too 
much work at once. I have those two girls to marry, 
and I must get that out of hand before I undertake more.” 

“ Exactly ; and all is now in train.” 

“ Many a slip, Arturo, ’twixt cup and lip ; but we shall 
see — we shall see.” 

Her ladyship went on snipping vigorously. 


208 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ I want you to understand me. To speak plainly, 
Arturo, you are a gentleman of great polish.” 

“ Thanks,” he said, bowing. 

“And a good presence.” 

He bowed again 

“ You are not quite handsome, but there is an aristocra- 
tic, good-bred look about you that would recommend you 
to any lady — and I mean you to marry a lady.” 

“ Yes, by all means. Pray don’t find me a young person 
who might pass for a relative of the great Elbraham.” 

“ My good boy, there is no such party in the field ; and 
if there were, I should not allow you to try and turn up 
that haughty aristociatic nose at her. A hundred thousand 
pounds, dear Arturo, would gild over a great many blem- 
ishes.” 

“True, O queen !” he said, smiling. 

“ As I said before, let us understand one another. You 
must not be too particular. Suppose the lady chances to 
be old?” 

Litton made a grimace. 

“ And rich — very rich ? ” 

“ That would make amends,” he said with a smile. 

“ I could marry you myself, Arturo,” she continued, 
looking very much attenuated and hawk-like as she smiled 
at him in a laughing way. 

“ Why not ? ” he cried eagerly, as the richly-furnished 
home and income opened out to his mind ease and comfort 
for life. 

“ Because I am too old,” she said, smiling at the young 
man’s impetuosity. 

“ Oh no,” he cried ; “ you would be priceless in my 
eyes.” 

“ Hold your tongue, Arturo, and don’t be a baby,” said 
her ladyship. “ I tell you I am too old to be foolish 
enough to marry. There are plenty of older women who 
inveigh against matrimony, and profess to have grown too 
sensible and too wise to embark in it, who would give their 
ears to win a husband.” 

“ Why should not Lady Littletown be placed in this 
list? ” said Litton meaningly. 

“ Because I tell you she is too old in a worldly way. 
No, my dear boy, when an elderly woman marries, it is 
generally because she is infatuated with the idea of possess- 


A DOUBLE KNOT \ 


209 


ing a young husband. She thinks for the moment that he 
wooes her for her worldly store ; but she is so flattered by 
his attentions that these outweigh all else, and she jumps 
at the opportunity of changing her state.” 

“ Again, then,” he whispered impressively, “ why should 
not this apply to Lady Littletown ? ” 

“Silence, foolish boy !” she cried, menacing him again 
with the scissors, and holding up her flower-basket as if 
to catch the snipped-off head. “ I tell you I am too old in 
a worldly way. When a matter-of-fact woman reaches my 
years, and knows that she has gradually been lessening her 
capital in the bank of life, she tries to get as much as pos- 
sible in the way of enjoyment out of what is left.” 

“ Exactly,” he cried eagerly. 

u She takes matters coolly and weighs them fairly before 
her. ‘ If,’ she says, 1 1 take the contents of this scale I shall 
get so much pleasure. If I choose the contents of this 
other scale, I shall again obtain so much.’ ” 

“ Well, what then?” said Litton, for her ladyship paused 
in the act of decapitating a magnificent Japan lily. 

“ What then ? Foolish boy ! Why, of course she chooses 
the scale that will give her most pleasure.” 

“ Naturally,” he said. 

“ Then, that is what I do.” 

“ But would not life with a man who would idolize you 
be far beyond any other worldly pleasure ? ” 

li Yes,” said her ladyship drily, “ but give me credit, 
mio caro Arturo, for not being such an old idiot as to 
believe that you would idolize me, as you call it.” 

“ Ah, you don’t know,” he cried. 

“ What you would be guilty of to obtain a good settle- 
ment in life, my dear boy ? ” 

“You insult me,” he cried angrily. 

“ Oh no, my impetuous young friend ; but really, Ar- 
turo, that was well done. Capital ! It would be winning 
with some ladies. Rest assured that you shall have a rich 
wife. As for me, I have had you in the scale twice over. I 
did once think of marrying you.” 

“ You did ? ” he cried with real surprise. 

“ To be sure I did,” she said quietly. “ Why not? I 
said to myself, ‘ I am careless of the opinion of the world, 
and shall do as I please ; ’ and I pictured out my home 
with you, a distingue man, at the head.” 


210 


A DOUBLE KNOT . 


“ You did? ” he said excitedly. 

“ Of course I did. And then I pictured it as it is, with 
Lady Littletown, a power in her way, a well-known charac- 
ter in society, whose word has its influence, and one who 
can sway the destinies of many, in many ways, in the 
world.” 

“ No ; say in one,” he exclaimed rather bitterly — “ in the 
matrimonial world.” 

“ As you will, cher Arthur,” replied her ladyship. “ You 
see, I am frank with you. I weighed it all carefully, as I 
said, and weighed it once again, to be sure that I was mak- 
ing no mistake, and the result was dead against change.” 

“ Highly complimentary to me ! ” 

“ A very excellent thing for you, my dear boy ; for you 
would have led a wretched life.” 

“ Assuming that your ladyship’s charms had conquered 
my youthful, ardent heart? ” he said. 

“ Silly boy ! you are trying to be sarcastic,” said Lady 
Littletown. “ Pish ! I am too thick-skinned to mind it in 
the least. Be reasonable and listen, dear brother-in- 
arms.” 

“ Why not lover-in-arms ? ” he cried quickly — “ in those 
arms.” 

Lady Littletown placed her scissors in the hand that 
held the basket, raised her square gold eyeglass and looked 
at her visitor. 

“ Well done, Arturo ! excellent, vion general ! Why, you 
would carry the stoutest fort I set you to attack in a few 
days. I have not heard anything so clever as that apt 
remark of yours for months. Really,” she continued, drop- 
ping the glass and resuming her scissors, “ I am growing 
quite proud of you — I am indeed.” 

“ And so you mock at me,” he said angrily. 

“ Not I, Arturo ; you were only practising ; and it was 
very smart. No, my dear, it would not do for you ; and I 
tell you frankly, you have had a very narrow escape.” 

“ Why ? ” he said ; and his eyes glanced round at the 
rich place with its many indications of wealth, and as he 
noted these there came to his memory his last unpaid bill. 

“ Because I have a horrible temper, and I am a terrible 
tyrant. Of course you would have married me for my 
money and position.” 

“ Don’t say that,” cried Litton. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


21 1 


“ Don’t be a donkey, Arthur, moil cher ,” said the lady. 
“ Well, to proceed : I should have married you because 
you were young and handsome.” 

“ Your ladyship seemed to indicate just now that I -was 
not handsome,” said Litton. 

“Did I? Well, I retract. I do think you handsome, 
Arturo, and I should have been horribly jealous of you as 
soon as I found that you were paying your court elsewhere.” 

“ Does your ladyship still imagine that I could be such 
a scoundrel?” cried Litton, in indignant tones. 

The square golden eyeglass went up again. 

“ Excellent, Arturo, my dear boy ! You would have made 
a fortune upon the stage in tragi-comedy. Nothing could 
have been finer than that declaration. Really, I am proud 
of you ! But I should have led you a horrible life, and 
been ready to poison you if I found you out in deception.” 

“ Lady Littletown, I hope I am a gentleman,” said the 
visitor haughtily. 

“ I hope you are, I’m sure, my dear boy,” said her lady- 
ship, smiling at him serenely. “ But, as you see, I could 
not have put up with my money being lavished upon others ; 
and hence I thought it better to let someone else have 
you.” 

“ But, my dear Lady Littletown ” 

“ Ah, tut, tut, tut ! no rhapsodies, please, my sweet 
ingenuous Lubin. I am no Phyllis now, believe me, and 
all this is waste of words. There, be patient, my dear boy, 
and you shall have a rich wife, and she shall be as young 
as I can manage ; but, mind, 1 do not promise beauty. Do 
you hear ? Are the raptures at an end ? ” 

“ Oh yes, if you like,” he said bitterly. 

“ I do like, my dear boy ; so they are at an end. Really, 
Arturo, I feel quite motherly towards you, and, believe me, 
I shall not rest until I see you well mated.” 

“ Thanks, my dear Lady Littletown,” he said ; “ and 
with that, I suppose, I am to be contented.” 

“ Yes, sir; and you ought to be very thankful. Do you 
hear ? ” 

“ Yes,” he replied, taking and kissing one of her lady- 
ship’s gardening gloves. “ And now I must be for saying 
au revoir .” 

“ Au revoir, cher gar (on,” replied her ladyship ; and she 
followed her visitor out of the conservatory into the draw- 


212 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


ing-room, and rang the bell for the servant in attendance to 
show him out. 

“ It wouldn’t have been a bad slice of luck to have mar- 
ried her and had this place. But, good heavens, what an 
old hag ! ” 

“ I should have been an idiot to marry him,” said her 
ladyship, as soon as she was alone. “ He is very hand- 
some and gentlemanly and nice ; but he would have ruined 
me, I am sure of that. Ah well, the sooner I find him 
someone else with a good income the better. Let him 
squander that. Why ” 

She stopped short. 

“ How stupid of me ! The very thing ! Lady Anna 
Maria Morton has just come in for her brother’s estate.” 

Lady Littletown stood thinking. 

“ She is fifty if she is a day, perhaps fifty-five, and as 
tremulous as Isabella Dymcox. But what of that ? Dear 
Anna Maria ! I have not called upon her for a fortnight., 
How wrong ! I shall be obliged to have a little partie carrh 
to dinner. Let me see — Lady Anna Maria, Arthur, my- 
self, and — dear, dear — dear, dear me ! Who shall I have 
that is not stupid enough to spoilsport? ” 

She walked about in a fidgety manner, and then picked 
up her card-basket, raised the square gold eyeglass, and 
turned the cards over in an impatient manner. 

Not one — not one!” she cried reluctantly. “Never 
mind ; she shall come to a tete-a-tete dinner, and Arthur 
shall drop in by accident, and stop. Dear boy, how I do 
toil and slave on his behalf. But stay,” she added, after a 
pause ; “ shall I wait and get the Dymcox business over 
first? No; what matters? I am diplomat enough to carry 
on both at once ; and, by-the-by, I must not let that little 
military boy slip through my fingers, for he really is a prize. 
Taken with Marie, but that won’t do,” she continued. 
“ Moorpark must have her, and I dare say somebody will 
turn up.” 

She took her seat at the table then, and began to write a 
tiny note upon delicately-scented paper. The first words 
after the date were : 

“ My dearest Anna Maria,” and ended with “ Your very 
affectionate friend.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


213 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

A MATTER-OF-FACT MATCH. 

Dick Millet received a note in his uncle’s crabbed hand 
one morning at Hampton Court, obtained leave, and hur- 
ried up to town, calling at Grosvenor Square to hear the 
last news about Gertrude, but finding none. 

On arriving at Wimpole Street., Vidler opened the door 
to the visitor, and smiled as he did so in rather a peculiar 
way. 

“ Can I speak to my uncle ? ” said Dick importantly. 
And he was shown up into the drawing-room, which seemed 
more gloomy now, lit as it was by four wax-candles, which 
were lost, as it were, in a great mist of old-time air, that 
had been shut up in that room till it had grown into a faded 
and yellow atmosphere, carefully preserved from the bleach- 
ing properties of the sun. 

The little opening was to his right with the white hand 
visible on the ledge ; but Dick hardly saw it, for, as he 
entered, Gertrude ran to his arms, to fall sobbing on his 
neck, while John Huish came forward offering his hand. 

“Then it was you, John Huish, after all?” Dick ex- 
claimed angrily as he placed his hand behind his back. 

“ Yes, it was I. What else could I do, forbidden as I 
was to come to the house ? My dear Dick, don’t be hard 
upon me now.” 

“ But,” exclaimed Dick in a puzzled way, “ how was all 
this managed ? ” 

“ Shall we let that rest ? ” said Huish, smiling. “ Neither 
Gertrude nor I are very proud of our subterfuges. But 
come, we are brothers now. We can count upon you, can 
we not, to make friends with her ladyship.” 

“ I — don’t know,” said Dick quietly, for his mind was 
busy with the thoughts of the awkward reports he had 
heard concerning Huish and his position at various clubs, 
and he asked himself whether he should be the friend and 
advocate of a man who was declared to be little better than 
a blackleg. 


214 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Surely I can count upon you,” said Huish, after a 
pause. 

“Suppose we step down into the dining-room,” said 
Dick stiffly ; but he gave his sister an encouraging smile as 
she caught his hand. 

“Dick,” she whispered, “ what does this mean?” 

“ Only a little clearing up between John Huish and me, 
dear,” he said. “ After that, I dare say I shall be able to 
tell you I’m glad you’re his wife.” 

Gertrude smiled, and Huish followed down to the dining- 
room, which, lit by one candle, looked like a vault. Arrived 
here, though, Dick turned sharply upon his brother-in-law. 

“ Now, look here, John Huish,” he said, “ I won’t 
quarrel about the past and this clandestine match, for 
perhaps, if I had been situated as you were, I should have 
done the same ; but there is something I want cleared up.” 

“ Let us clear it up at once then,” said Huish, smiling. 
“ What is it ? ” 

“ Well, there are some sinister reports about you — you 
see, I speak plainly.” 

“ Yes, of course. Go on.” 

“ Well, they say commonly that you have been playing 
out of the square at the clubs ; that you’ve been expelled 
from two, and that your conduct has been little better than 
that of a blackleg. John Huish, as a gentleman and my 
brother-in-law, how much of this is true ? Stop a moment,” 
he added hastily. “ I know, old man, what it is myself to 
be pinched for money, and how a fellow might be tempted 
to do anything shady to get some together to keep up ap- 
pearances. If there has been anything queer it must be 
forgiven ; but you must give me your word as a man that 
for the future all shall be right.” 

“ My dear Dick,” cried Huish, “ I give you my word 
that all in the future shall be square, as you term it ; and I 
tell you this, that if any man had spoken such falsehoods 
about my wife’s brother, I should have knocked him down. 
There isn’t a word of truth in these reports, though I must 
confess they have worried me a great deal. Now, will you 
shake hands ? ” 

“ That I will,” cried Dick eagerly ; “ and I tell you now 
that I am glad that you have thrown dust in our eyes as 
you have. I always liked you, Huish, and you were about 
the only man from whom I never liked to borrow money.” 

“ Why ? ” said Huish, smiling. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


215 


“ Because I was afraid of losing a friend. Come up now, 
for Gertrude will be in a fidget to know what we have been 
saying. — Gertrude, my dear,” he said as they re-entered 
the drawing-rpom, “ it’s all right.” 

An hour later Dick parted from the young couple at the 
little house they had taken in Westbourne Road, and 
cabbed back, to send her ladyship into a fainting fit by the 
announcement that his sister and her husband had been at 
his uncle’s. 

“ For,” said Lady Millet, “ I can never forgive Gertrude ; 
and as to that dreadful man Huish, in marrying him she 
has disgraced herself beyond the power to redeem her lot. 
Ah me ! and these are the children I have nurtured in my 
bosom.” 

It was rather hard work for Dick Millet, with his own 
love affairs in a state of “ check,” with no probability of 
“ mate,” but he felt that he must act ; and in his newly 
assumed character of head of the family he determined to go 
and try to smooth matters over at Chesham Place, and took 
a hansom to see Frank Morrison, who was now back at his 
own house, but alone, and who surlily pointed to a chair 
as he sat back pale and nervous of aspect, wrapped in a 
dressing-gown. 

“ Look here, Frank,” said Dick, sitting down, and help- 
ing himself to a cigar, “ we’re brothers-in-law, and I’m not 
going to quarrel. I’ve come for the other thing.” 

“ My cigars, seemingly,” said the other. 

“ Yes ; they’re not bad. But look here, old fellow, light 
up ; I want to talk to you.” 

“ If you want to borrow twenty pounds, say so, and I’ll 
draw you a cheque.” 

“ Hang your cheque ! I didn’t come to borrow money. 
Light up.” 

Morrison snatched up a cigar, bit off the end, and lit it, 
threw himself back in his chair, and began to smoke quickly. 

“ Go on,” he said. “ What is it ? ” 

“ Wait a minute or two,” said Dick. “ Smoke five 
minutes first.” 

Morrison muttered something unpleasant, but went on 
smoking, and at last Dick, who was sitting with his little 
legs dangling over the side of the chair, began. 

“ Fact is,” he said, u I’m going to speak out. I shan’t 
quarrel, and I’m such a little chap that you can’t hit me.” 


216 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ No ; but I could throw you downstairs,” said Morrison, 
who was half amused, half annoyed by his visitor’s coming, 
though in his heart of hearts he longed to hear news of 
Renee. 

“ I saw my uncle yesterday.” 

“ Indeed ? Poor old lunatic ! What had he got to say? ” 

“ Ah, there you are wrong ! ” said Dick sharply. “ He 
said something which you will own proved that he was no 
lunatic.” 

“What was it? ” said Morrison coldly. 

“ That you were a confounded scoundrel.” 

Frank Morrison jumped up in his chair, scowling 
angrily ; but he threw himself back again with a contempt- 
uous “ Pish ! ” 

“ Proves it, don’t it ? ” 

“ Look here,” cried Morrison angrily, “ I’ve had about 
enough of your family, so please finish your cigar and go.” 

“ Shan’t. There, it’s no use to twist about. I’ve come 
on purpose to sit upon you.” 

“ Look here,” cried Morrison sternly, “ has your sister 
sent you ? ” 

“ No. I’ve come of my own free will, as I tell you, to 
show you what a fool you are, and to try and bring you to 
your senses.” 

“ You are very ready at calling people fools,” said Mor- 
rison, biting his nails. 

“ Well, don’t you deserve to be called one for acting as 
you have acted? What did you do? Went mad after a 
woman who didn’t care a sou for you ; neglected a dear, 
good girl who did care for you, and exposed her to the 
persecutions of a scoundrel who has no more principle than 
that.” 

He snapped his fingers, and, instead of firing up with 
rage, Morrison turned his face away and smoked furiously. 

“ Now, isn’t that all true, Frank ? Here, give me a light.” 

Morrison lit a spill, passed it to his brother-in-law, and 
sank back in his chair. 

“ I say,” continued Dick, as he lit his cigar again, “ isn’t 
it {puff) quite ( puff ) true? ” 

“ I suppose so,” said the other listlessly. “ She never 
cared for me, though, Dick. That scoundrel and she were 
old flames.” 

“ First, a lie ; second, true,” said Dick quietly. “ RenSe 
is as good as gold ; and when she found she was to be 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


217 


your wife, she accepted the inevitable and tried to do her 
duty, poor girl ! She was already finding out what a bad 
one Malpas was.” 

“ Curse him ! don’t mention his name here ! ” cried 
Morrison savagely. 

“ I say she was already finding out what a cursed 
scoundrel Malpas was when she married you.” 

“ She encouraged his visits afterwards,” cried Morrison 
fiercely. “ The villain owned it to me.” 

k ‘ And you didn’t thrust your fist down his throat? ” 

Morrison got up and paced the room. 

“ Look here, Frank, old fellow : you are beginning to 
find out what a donkey you have been. You are easy- 
going, and it’s no hard job to lead you away. Now tell me 
this : didn’t Malpas introduce you to a certain lady ? ” 

“ Yes,” was the sulky reply. 

“ Of course,” said Dick. “ He takes you and moulds 
you like wax, introduces you to people so as to make your 
wife jealous, out of revenge for your supplanting him, and 
then tries to supplant you in turn.” 

“Dick Millet,” cried Morrison, “you mean well, but I 
can’t bear this. Either be silent or go. If I think of the 
scene on that dreadful night when I was sent home by a 
note written by that scoundrel of a brother-in-law of 
yours ” 

“ Meaning yourself? ” said Tom coldly. 

“ I mean that double-faced, double-lived, double-dyed 
traitor, John Huish.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ The man who has fleeced me more than Malpas — 
curse him ! — ever did.” 

“ Gently ! I won’t sit and hear John Huish maligned 
like that.” 

“ Maligned ! ” cried Morrison, with a bitter laugh. “ As 
if any one could say anything bad enough of the scoun- 
drel!” 

“ Look here, Frank,” said Dick rather warmly, “ I came 
here to try and do you a good turn, not to hear John Huish 
back-bitten. He’s a good, true-hearted fellow, who has 
been slandered up and down, and he don’t deserve it.” 

Morrison sat up, stared at him in wonder, and then burst 
into a scornful laugh. 


2 1 8 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Dick Millet,” he exclaimed, “ you called me a fool a 
little while ago. I won’t call you so, only ask you whether 
you don’t think you are one.” 

“ I daresay I am,” said Dick sharply. “ But look here, 
are you prepared to prove all this about John Huish ? ” 

“ Every bit of it, and ten times as much,” said Morrison. 
“ Why, this scoundrel won or cheated me of the money 
that paid for his wedding trip. He was with me till the 
last instant. Yes, and, as well as I can recollect, after he 
had got your sister away.” 

Dick’s cigar went out, and his forehead began to pucker 
up. 

“ Look here,” he said : “ you told me that he sent you the 
note that made you go home that night. Where were 
you ? ” 

“ At a supper with some actresses.” 

fl But John Huish was not there ! ” 

“ Not there. Why, he was present with the lady who 
was his companion up to the time that he honored your 
sister with his name. I believe he visits her now.” 

“ I can’t stand this,” cried Dick, throwing away his cigar. 
“ How the fellow who calls himself a man can play double in 
this way gets over me. Frank Morrison, if I did as much 
I should feel as if I had 1 liar ’ written on my face, ready 
for' my wife to see. It’s too much to believe about John 
Huish. I can’t — I won’t have it. Why, it would break 
poor little Gerty’s heart.” 

“ Break her heart ! ” said Morrison bitterly. “ Perhaps 
she would take a leaf out of her sister’s book.” 

" Confound you, Frank Morrison ! ” cried Dick, in a 
rage, as he jumped up and faced his brother-in-law. “I 
won’t stand it. My two sisters are as pure as angels. Do 
you dare to tell me to my face that you believe Renee 
guilty ? ” 

There was a dead silence in the room, and at last Frank 
Morrison spoke. 

“ Dick,” lie said, and his voice shook, “ you are a good 
fellow. You are right : I am a fool and a scoundrel.” 

“Yes,” cried Dick; “but do you dare to tell me you 
believe that of Renee ? ” 

“ I’d give half my life to know that she was innocent,” 
groaned Morrison. 

“ You are a fool, then,” cried Dick ; “ or you’d know it. 
There, I didn’t come to quarrel, but to try and make you 


A DOUBLE KNOT, \ 


219 

both happy ; and now matters are ten times worse. But I 
won’t believe this about John.” 

“ It’s true enough,” said Morrison sadly. “Poor little 
lass ! I liked Gertrude. You should not have let that 
scoundrel have her.” 

“ We have a weakness for letting our family marry 
scoundrels.” 

“Yes,” said Morrison, speaking without the slightest 
resentment ; “ she had better have had poor Lord Henry 
Moorpark.” 

“ Oh !” said Dick. “There, I’m going. Day.” 

He moved towards the door, but Morrison stopped him. 

“ Dick,” he said ; “ did Renee know you were coming ? ” 

“ No,” was the curt reply. 

“ Is she — is she still at your uncle’s ? ” 

“ Yes, nearly always.” 

“ Is she — is she well ? ” 

“ No. She is ill. Heartsick and broken ; and if what 
you say is true, she will soon have poor Gerty to keep her 
company.” 

Dick Millet hurried away from his brother-in-law’s house, 
pondering upon his own love matters, and telling himself 
that he had more to think of than he could bear. 

In happy ignorance of her ladyship’s prostrate state, 
John Huish, soon after his brother-in-law’s departure, hur- 
ried off to pay a hasty visit to his club, where he asked to 
see the .secretary, and was informed that that gentleman 
was out. He threw himself into a cab, looking rather 
white and set of countenance as he had himself driven to 
Finsbury Square, where Daniel looked at him curiously as 
he ushered him into the doctor’s room. 

“ My dear dear boy, I am glad ! ” cried the doctor, dash- 
ing down his glasses. “You did the old lady, after all, and 
carried the little darling off. Bless her heart ! Why, the 
gipsy ! Oh, won’t I talk to her about this. That’s the 
best thing I’ve known for years. What does your father 
say ? ” 

“ He wrote me word that he was very glad, and said he 
should write to Gertrude’s uncle.” 

“ Ah, yes. H’m ! ” said the doctor. “ Best thing, too. 
They were once very great friends, John.” 

“ Yes, I have heard so,” said Huish. “ I think Captain 
Millet loved my mother.” 


220 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ H’m, yes,” said the doctor, nodding. “ They quar- 
relled. Well, but this is a surprise ! You dog, you ! 
But the secrecy of the whole thing! How snug you. kept 
it ! But, I say, you ought to have written to us all." 

“ Well, certainly, I might have written to you, doctor, 
but I confess I forgot.” 

“ I say, though, you should have written to the old man.” 

“ We did, letter after letter.” 

“ Then that old — there, I won’t say what, must have 
suppressed them. She was mad because her favorite lost. 
It would have been murder to have tied her up to that 
wreck. I say, though, my boy,” continued the doctor 
seriously, “ I don’t think you ought to have carried on so 
with Frank Morrison. He has had D. T. terribly.” 

“ What had that to do with me ? ” said Huish quietly. 
“ If a man will drink, he must take the consequences.” 

“ Exactly,” said the doctor coldly ; “ but his frienas 
need not egg him on so as to win his money.” 

“ He should not choose scoundrels for his companions,” 
said Huish coldly. 

“ H’m, no, of course not,” said the doctor, coughing and 
hurrying to change the conversation. “ By the way, why 
didn’t you tell me all this when you came last ? ” 

“ How could I ? ” said Huish, smiling. “ I was not a 
prophet.” 

“ Prophet, no ! but why keep it secret then ? ” 

“Secret? Well,” said Huish; “but really — I was not 
justified in telling it then.” 

“What ! not when you had been married? ” 

“ I don’t understand you,” said Huish, with his counten- 
ance changing. 

“ I mean,” said the doctor, “ why didn’t you tell me 
when you were here a fortnight ago ; and — let me see,” he 
continued, referring to his note-book, “ you were due here 
last Wednesday, and again yesterday.” 

John Huish drew a long breath, and the pupils of his 
eyes contracted as he said quietly : 

“ Why, doctor, I told you that I had been on the 
Continent, and only returned two days ago.” 

“Yes ; of course. We know — fashionable fibs : Out of 
town ; not at home, et cetera, et cetera.” 

“ My dear doctor,” said Huish, fidgeting slightly in his 
seat, “ I have always made it a practice to try and be 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


221 


honest in my statements. I tell you I only came back two 
days ago.” 

“ That be hanged, John Huish ! ” cried the doctor. 
“ Why, you were here a fortnight ago yesterday.” 

“ Nonsense,” cried Huish excitedly. “ How absurd ! ” 

“ Absurd ? Hang it, boy ! do you think I’m mad ? 
Here is the entry,” he continued, reading. “Seventh, 
John Huish, Nervous fit — over-excitement — old bite of 
dog — bad dreams — dread of hydrophobia. Prescribed, 
um, um — um — et cetera, et cetera. Now then, what do you 
say to that ? ” 

“You were dreaming,” said Huish. 

“ Dreaming ? ” said the doctor, laughing. “ What ! 
that you — here, stop a moment. He rang the bell. “ Ask 
Daniel yourself when you were here last.” 

“ What nonsense ! ” said Huish, growing agitated. 
Then as the door opened, “ Daniel,” he said quietly, 
“ when was I here last ? ” 

“ Yesterday fortnight, sir,” said the man promptly. 

“That will do, Daniel!” and the attendant retired 
as Huish sank back in his chair, gazing straight before 
him in a strange, vacant manner. “ What a fool I am ! ” 
muttered the doctor. “ I’ve led him on to it again. 
Hang it ! shall I never understand my profession ? ” 

“ I’ll go now,” said Huish drearily, as he rose ; but Dr. 
Stonor pressed him back in his seat. 

“ No, no ; sit still a few minutes,” he said quietly. 

“I — I thought it was gone,” said Huish; “and life 
seemed so bright and happy on ahead. Doctor, I’ve 
never confessed, even to you, what I have suffered from 
all this. I have felt horrible at times. The devil has 
tempted me to do the most dreadful things.” 

“ Poor devil ! ” said the doctor. “ What a broad back 
he must have to bear all that the silly world lays upon it ! ” 

“ You laugh. Tell me, what does it mean ? How is it ? 
Do I do things in my sleep, or when I am waking, and then 
do they pass completely away from my memory ? Tell me 
truly, and let me know the worst. Am I going to lose my 
reason ? ” 

“No, no, no !” cried the doctor. “Absurd! It is a 
want of tone in the nerves — a little absence of mind. The 
liver is sluggish, and from its stoppage the brain gets 
affected.” 


222 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Yes ; that is what I feared,” cried Huish excitedly. 
“Not as you mean, my dear boy,” cried the doctor. 
“ When we say the brain is affected, we don’t always 
mean madness. What nonsense ! The brain is affected 
when there are bad headaches — a little congestion, you 
know. These fits of absence are nothing more.” 

“ Nothing more, doctor? ” said Huish dejectedly. “ If 
I could only think so ! Oh, my darling ! my darling,” he 
whispered to himself, as his head came down upon his 
hands for a moment, when he started up, for Dr. Stonor’s 
hand was upon his arm. “ Oh, doctor ! ” he cried in 
anguished tones, “ I am haunted by these acts which I do 
and forget. I am constantly confronted with something or 
another that I cannot comprehend, and the dread is always 
growing on me that I shall some day be a wreck. “ Oh, I 
have been mad to link that poor girl’s life to such a life as 
mine ! Doctor — doctor — tell me — what shall I do ? ” 

“Be a man,” said the doctor quietly, “ and don’t worry 
yourself by imagining more than is real. You are a deal 
better than when I saw you last. You have not worried 
yourself more about the bite? ” 

“No, I have hardly thought of it. Dog-bite? But tell 
me, doctor, would the virus from a dog-bite have any 
effect upon a man’s mental organization ? ” 

“ Oh no, my dear boy ; but you are better in health.” 

“ I felt so well and happy to-day,” he cried, “ that 
all seemed sunshine. Now all is cloud.” 

“ Of course ; yes ! ” said the doctor. “ That shows you 
how much the imagination has to do with the mental state. 
The greater part of my patients are ill from anxiety. Now, 
look here, my dear John, the first thing you have to bear 
in mind is that every man is a screwc There may be much 
or little wrong, and it may vary from a tiny discoloration 
from rust, up to a completely worn-out worm or a broken 
head. Your little ailment is distressing; but so is every 
disorder. Keep yourself in good health, take matters 
coolly, and in place of getting worse you may get better, 
perhaps lose the absence of mind altogether." If you do 
not — bear it like a man. Why trouble about the inevita- 
ble ? I am getting on in years now, and, my dear fellow, 
I know that some time or other I shall be lying upon my 
deathbed gasping for the last breath I shall have to draw. 
Now, my dear boy, do I sit down and make my life miser- 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


223 


able because some day I have got to die ? Does anybody 
do so except a fool, and those weakly strung idiots who 
make death horrible when it is nothing but the calm rest 
and sleep that comes to the worn-out body? No; we 
accept the inevitable, enjoy life as it is given us, make the 
best of our troubles and pains, and thank God for every- 
thing. Do you hear me ? ” 

“ Yes, doctor, yes,” said the young man sadly. “ But this 
is very dreadful ! ” 

“ So is a bad leg,” said the doctor sharply. “ There, I’ll 
speak frankly to you if you’ll sit up and look me full in the 
face. Come, for your young wife’s sake, shake off this 
weak nervousness, and be ready to fight. Don’t lie down 
and ask disease to conquer you. Why, my dear boy, 
speaking as an old fisherman, you’re as sound as a roach, 
and as bright as a bleak. Be a man, for your wife’s sake, 
be a man ! ” 

Huish drew a long breath. The doctor had touched the 
right chord, and he sat up, looking pale but more himself. 

“ Now then,” said the doctor, “ I speak to you fairly as 
one who has had some experience of such matters, but who 
honestly owns that he finds life too short to master a 
thousandth part of what he ought to know. I say, then, 
look here,” he continued, thrusting his hands through his 
crisp hair, “ your state puzzles me : pulse, countenance, 
eye, all say to me that you are quite well ; but you every now 
and then contradict it. What I tell you, then, is this, and of 
it I feel sure. It lies in your power to follow either of two 
roads you please : You can be a healthy, vigorous man, 
clear of intellect, save a cloud or two now and then which 
you must treat as rainy days, or you can force yourself by 
your despondency into so low a mental state that you may 
become one of my patients. Now, then, which is it to be, 
my sturdy young married man ? Answer for Gertrude’s 
sake.” 

“ There is only one answer,” cried Huish, springing up. 
“ For Gertrude’s sake.” 

“ That’s right,” cried the doctor, shaking his hand 
warmly. “ Spoken like a man.” 

i( But will you prescribe ? Shall I take anything ? ” 

** Bah ! Stuff! Doctor’s stuff,” he added, laughing. 
“ My dear boy, that dearly beloved, credulous creature, the 
human being," is never happy unless he is taking bottles 


224 


A DOUBLE KNOT . 


and bottles of physic, and boxes and boxes of pills. Look 
at the fortunes made by it. Human nature will not 
believe that it can be cured without medicine, when in 
most cases it can. Why, my dear boy, your daily food is 
your medicine, your mental and bodily food. There, be 
off, go and enjoy the society of your dear little wife. Go 
and row her up the river, or drive her in the park ; go in 
the country and pick buttercups, and run after butterflies, 
and eat bread and butter; sleep well, live well, and inno- 
cently, and believe in the truest words ever written : 
1 Care killed the cat ! ’ Don’t let it kill you.” 

“No, I can’t afford to let it kill me,” said Huish, 
smiling. 

“ Never mind your sore finger, my boy ; everybody has 
got 3. sore place, only they are divided into two classes : 
those who show them, and those who do not so much as 
wear a stall. Good-bye : God bless you, my boy ! L 
wish I had your youth and strength, and pretty wife, and 
then ” 

“ Then what, doctor ? ” said Huish, smiling, and looking 
quite himself. 

“ Why, like you, you dog, I should not be satisfied. Be 
off ; I shall come and see you soon. Where’s your address ? 
Love to my little Gertrude ; and John, tell her if — eh ? — 
by-and-by ” 

“ Nonsense ! ” cried Huish, flushing with pleasure. u I 
shall tell her no such thing.” 

“You will,” said the doctor, grinning. li Oh, that’s the 
address, eh ? Westbourne Road. Good-bye.” 

“ I don’t understand him,” said the doctor thoughtfully, 
as soon as he was alone. “ He is himself to-day ; last 
time he was almost brutal. Heaven help him, poor fellow ! 

if No, no ; I will not think that. But he is terribly 

unhinged at times.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


225 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

CLOTILDE IS TRIUMPHANT. 

Palace Gardens, Kensington, was selected by Elbraham 
for the scene of his married life, and here he was to take 
the fair Clotilde upon their return from their Continental 
trip. 

“ It’s all bosh, Litton, that going across to Paris ; and 
on one’s wedding day,” said the great financier. “ Can’t 
we get off it ? ” 

“ Impossible, I should say,” replied Litton. “ You see, 
you are bround to make yours the most stylish of the 
fashionable marriages of the season.” 

“ Oh yes, of course — that I don’t mind ; and I’ll come 
out as handsome as you like for the things to do it with 
well ; but I do kick against the run over to Paris the same 
day.” 

“And why ? ” said Litton wonderingly. 

“ Well, the fact is, my boy, I never could go across the 
Channel without being terribly ill. Ill ! that’s nothing to 
my feelings. I’m a regular martyr, and I feel disposed to 
strike against all that. Why not say the Lakes? ” 

“ Too shabby and cockneyfied.” 

“ Wales ? ” 

“ Worse still.” 

“ Why not Scotland ? ” 

“ My dear sir, what man with a position to keep up 
would think of going there ? I’ll consult Lady Littletown, 
if you like.” 

“ Lord, no ; don’t do that,” said Elbraham. “ She’s 
certain to say I must go to Paris, and so sure as ever I do 
have to cross, the Channel is at its worst.” 

“But it is a very short passage, sir. You’ll soon be 
over ; and in society a man of your position is forced to 
study appearances.” 

“ How the deuce can a fellow study appearances at a 
time like that? ” growled Elbraham. “ I always feel as if 

15 


226 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


it would be a mercy to throw me overboard. ’Pon my 
soul I do.” 

“ I’ll see if I cannot fee the clerk of the weather for you, 
and get you a smooth passage this time,” said Litton, 
laughing ; and the matter dropped. 

There were endless other little matters to settle, in all of 
which Litton was the bridegroom’s ambassador, carrying 
presents, bringing back messages and notes, and in one 
way and another thoroughly ingratiating himself in 
Clotilde’s favor, that young lady condescending to smile 
upon him when he visited Hampton Court. 

The Palace Gardens house was rapidly prepared, and, 
thanks to Arthur Litton, who had been consulted on both 
sides, and finally entrusted with the arrangements, every- 
thing was in so refined a style that there was but little 
room for envy to carp and condemn. 

Certainly, Lady Littletown had hod what Mr. Elbraham 
called a finger in the pie, and had added no little by her 
advice and counsel in making the interior the model it 
was. 

“ For,” said Elbraham, in a little quiet dinner with her 
ladyship at Hampton, “ I’m not particular to a few 
thousands. All I say is, let me have something to look at 
for my money ; and I say, Litton, draw it mild, you 
know.” 

“ I don’t understand you,” said that gentleman. “ Do 
you mean don’t have the decorations too showy? ” 

“ Not I. Have ’em as showy as you like. Get out 
with you ; how innocent we are ! ” 

“ Really, Mr. Elbraham, I do not know what you mean,” 
said Litton stiffly. 

“ Go along with you,” chuckled Elbraham. “ I say, 
draw it mild. Of course you’ll make your bit of commis- 
sion with the furniture people, but draw it mild.” 

* Litton flushed with annoyance and indignation, probably 
on account of his having received a promise of a cheque 
for two hundred pounds from a firm if he placed the 
decorating and furnishing of Mr. Elbraham’s new mansion 
in their hands. 

A look from Lady Littletown quieted him, and that lady 
laughed most heartily. 

“ Oh, you funny man, Elbraham ! really you are, you 
know, a very funny man.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


227 


“ Oh, I don’t know,” chuckled the financier ; “ I like my 
joke. But look here, Litton, I don’t get married every day, 
and want to do it well. I’m not going to put on the 
screw, I can tell you. You furnish the place spiff, and 
bring me the bills afterwards, and I’ll give you cheques for 
the amounts. If there is a bit of discount, have it and 
welcome ; I shan’t complain so long as the thing is done 
well.” 

So Arthur Litton contented himself with calling the 
financier “a coarse beast,” declined to be more fully 
offended, and aided by Lady Littletown, who worked hard 
for nothing but the kudos , furnished the house in admirable 
style, received the cheques from Elbraham, who really did 
pay without grumbling, and soothed his injured feelings 
with the very substantial commission which he received. 

Upon one part of the decorations Lady Littletown 
prided herself immensely, and that was upon the addition 
to the drawing-room of a very spacious conservatory built 
upon the model of her own ; and this she labored hard to 
fill with choice foliage plants and gaily pe tailed exotics of 
her own selection. 

Her carriage was seen daily at the principal florists, and 
Elbraham had to write a very handsome cheque for what 
he called the “greenstuff” ; but it was without a murmur, 
and he smiled with satisfaction as Lady Littletown trium- 
phantly led him in to see the result of her toil. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ tip-top — beats the C.P. hollow ! Puts 
one a little in mind of what the Pantheon used to be when 
I was a boy.” 

“ But, my dear Elbraham, is that all you*have to say ? ” 
exclaimed her ladyship. 

“ Well, since you put it like that, Lady Littletown, I 
won’t shilly-shally.” 

“ No, don’t — pray don’t. I like to hear you speak out, 
Elbraham — you are so original.” 

Oh, I am, am I? ” he said. “ Well, you know — well, 
I was going to say, don’t you think some of those statues 
are a little too prononsay , as you people call it, you 
know ? ” 

“ Naughty man ! ” exclaimed her ladyship. “ I will not 
have fault found with a tiling, especially as I brought our 
sweet Clotilde here, and she was perfectly charmed with 
all she saw. The flowers are really, really ” 


228 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Well, they are not amiss,” said the financier : and he 
went up to a wreath of stephanotis with such evident 
intention of picking a “ buttonhole” that Lady Littletown 
hooked him with the handle of her sunshade, uttering a 
scream of horror the while. 

“Mustn’t touch — naughty boy!” she cried. “How 
could you ? ” 

“ Oh, all right,” said Elbraham, grinning hugely at the 
idea of not being allowed to touch his own property, and 
then he suffered himself to be led through the various rooms, 
one and all replete with the most refined luxuries of life. 

“Now, you do think it is nice, my dear Elbraham?” 
said her ladyship. 

“ Nice? It’s clipping ! Might have had a little more 
voluptuousness ; but Litton says no, so I don’t complain. 
I sav : Clotilde — you know, eh ? ” 

“ Yes, dear Elbraham. What of her? ” 

“ She ought to be satisfied, eh ? ” 

“ She is charmed ; she really loves the place. Come, 
I’ll tell you a secret. The darling — ah, but you’ll betray 
me ? ” 

“ No — honor bright 1 ” cried Elbraham, laying his hand 
upon the side of his waistcoat. 

“ Well, I’ll tell you, then ; but, mind, it is sacred.” 

“Of course — of course.” 

“ The darling begged me to bring her up to see the 
delicious nest being prepared for her, but it was to be a 
stolen visit, for she said she could never look you in the 
face again if she thought you knew.” 

“ Dear girl?” ejaculated Elbraham. 

“ Yes, she is so sweet and unworldly and innocent ! Do 
you know, my dear Elbraham,” said Lady Littletown, “ a 
man like you, for whom so many mothers were bid- 
ding ” 

“ Ah, yes, I used to get a few invitations,” said Elbra- 
ham complacently. 

“ I used to hear how terribly you flirted at Lady Mil- 
let’s with those two daughters,” said Lady Littletown 
playfully. 

“ By George ! no. However, the old woman was always 
asking me to her at homes and dinners, and to that wed- 
ding ; but I never went.” 

“ I knew it,” said Lady Littletown to herself. “ How 
mad she must be ! Ah me ! ” she continued mournfully, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


229 


“ there are times when I feel as if I have done wrong in 
furthering this match.” 

“ The deuce you do ! Why? ” ejaculated Elbraham. 

“ Because my sweet Clotilde is so unused to the ways 
of the world, and it is such a terrible stride from her pres- 
ent home to the head of such an establishment as this.” 

“Oh, that be - hanged ! ” cried Elbraham. “ ’Tis a 
change, of course — a precious great change^ from those 
skimpily-furnished apartments at Hampton Court.” 

“ But show is not everything, my dear Elbraham,” said 
Lady Littletown, laying a finger impressively upon the 
financier’s arm. 

“ No, it is not ; but people like it. I’ll be bound to say 
Clotilde likes this place.” 

“ She was in raptures — she could hardly contain her 
delight. Her sweet innocent ways of showing her pleas- 
ure made my heart bound. Ah, Elbraham, you have won 
a prize ! ” 

“ So has she,’’ he said gruffly. “ I don’t know but what 
she has got the best of the bargain.” 

“ Oh, you conceited man ! how dare you say so ? But 
it is only your quaintness*” 

“ I say, though,” cried Elbraham, “ she did like the 
place ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you how much she was delighted.” 

“ Did sl>e say anything about me ? ” 

“ Oh yes ; she was prattling artlessly about you for long 
enough — about your kindness, your generosity, the rich- 
ness of the jewels you had given her. You sadly extra- 
vagant man ! I can’t tell you half what she said ; but I 
really must take you to task for spoiling her so.” 

Elbraham coughed and cleared his throat. 

“ Didn’t — er — er — she didn’t say anything about — about 
my dress — my personal appearance, did she ? ” 

“ Now, wasn’t I right when I called you a conceited 
man ? Really, Elbraham, it is shocking ! I declare you 
are one of the most anxious lovers I ever met, and I won’t 
tell you a woid she said.” 

“Oh yes ; come now, do.” 

“ It would be a breach of confidence, and I really can- 
not give way — no, not on any consideration.” 

“ You are hard upon me,” said Elbraham. “ Oh, by the 
way, I haven’t forgotten you, Lady Littletown. Would 
you wear this to oblige me ? ” 


2 3 0 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Oh no, I could not think of taking it, Mr. Elbraham, 
really. It looks so like a bride, too.” 

“ No, no, that it don’t,” said the financier. “ I wouldn’t 
give it to you at first, for fear your ladyship should think 
I meant it in that way ; but now it is all settled, and you 
have been so kind to me, I thought perhaps you would 
not mind accepting that little marquise ring just as a re- 
membrance of, et cetera, et cetera — you know.” 

“ Well, if you put it like that,” said Lady Littletown, “ I 
suppose I must take it, and wear it as you say. But it is 
too good, Elbraham — it is, really. What a lovely opal ! ” 

“ Yes, ’tis a good one, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Charming ! And what regular diamonds ! ” 

“ I thought you’d like it,” chuckled Elbraham ; and 
then to himself, “ They’re all alike.” 

“ Do you know, Elbraham,” said her ladyship, holding 
the ring up to the light for him to see, as she fitted it upon 
her finger over her glove — “ lovely, isn’t it ? — do you know, 
Elbraham, that I was going to ask you to do me a kind- 
ness ? ” 

“ Were you, though ? What is it ? ” 

“ Well, you see, Elbraham, living as I do, a woman’s life, 
I am so ignorant of business matters.” 

“ Of course you are,” he responded. “ Want to make your 
will?” 

“ No, no, no, no ! horrid man ! How can you ? ” she 
cried, whipping him playfully with her sunshade. “ I 
want you to tell me what it means when a gentleman is 
short of money and he goes to somebody to get a bill dis- 
counted.” 

“Simplest thing in the world. If the paper’s good,” 
said Elbraham, “ discount accordingly. I never touch 
bills now.” 

“ No,” she said sweetly ; “ but then you are so rich. 
But that is it, Elbraham — if the paper’s good, discount 
accordingly ? What do you call it— the bill ? Well, it is 
easy to have it on the very best note-paper.” 

“ Haw, haw, haw ! bless your ladyship’s innocence ! ” 
cried Elbraham, with a hoarse laugh. “ By paper being 
good I mean that the man who signs his name is substan- 
tial — can pay up when it comes to maturity.” 

# “ Oh ! ” said Lady Littletown, drawing out the interjec- 
tion in a singularly long way, “ I see now. And that is 
how a gentleman raises money, is it? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


231 


“ Yes, that’s it,” said Elbraham, eyeing her ladyship 
Curiously. 

“ Would not a lady do? ” asked Lady Littletown. 

“To be sure she would ! ” said the financier. “ Lookye 
here — does your ladyship want a hundred or two ? ” 

“ Not to-morrow, dear Mr. Elbraham ; but my rents do 
not come in for another month, and I must confess to 
having been rather extravagant lately — I have had a great 
deal of company, and I thought I might — might — might — 
what do you call it? ” 

“ Do a bill.” 

“ Yes, that’s it — do a bill,” said her ladyship, “if some 
kind friend would show me how.” 

“ It’s done,” said Elbraham. “ What would you like — 
two-fifty ? ” 

“Well, yes,” said her ladyship. 

“ Better make it three hundred — looks better,” said the 
financier. 

“But you are not to advance the money, dear Mr. El- 
braham. I could not take it of you.” 

“ All right ; I shan’t have anything to do with it. Some- 
one in the City will send your ladyship a slip of paper to 
sign, and the cheque will come by the next post. I say, 
though, what did Clotilde say ? ” 

“ Oh, I daren’t tell you. Really, you know — pray don’t 
press me — I couldn’t confess. Dear Clotilde would be so 
angry if I betrayed her — dear girl ! I could not do that, 
you know.” 

“ Honor bright, I wouldn’t say a word for the world.” 

“ Well, it’s very shocking, you know, Elbraham, and I 
was quite astonished to hear her say it ; but she is so 
innocent and girlish, and it came out so naturally that I 
forgave her.” 

“ But what did she say? ” 

“ Oh, dear child, she clapped her hands together with 
delight, and then covered her blushing face and cried, 
‘Oh, Lady Littletown, I wish it was to-morrow ! ’ ” 

“By Jingo!” exclaimed the financier to himself, “so 
do I ! ” 

Everybody being in the same mind, the wedding was 
hurried on. The trousseau was of the most splendid char- 
acter, and Marie entered into the spirit of the affair with 
such eagerness that the sisters forbore to quarrel. 


232 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Mr. Montaigne came and went far more frequently, and 
seemed to bless his pupils in an almost apostolic fashion. 

“ I would give much,” he said, with a gentle, pious look 
of longing, “ to be able to perform the ceremony which 
joins two loving hearts.” 

But three eminent divines were to tie that knot, and 
even if Mr. Paul Montaigne had been in holy orders ac- 
cording to the rites and ceremonies of the English Church, 
his services would not have been demanded, and he con- 
tented himself with smiling benignly and offering a few 
kindly words of advice. 

Miss Dymcox and the Honorable Isabella were rather 
at odds on the question of intimacy, and Captain Glen 
would have been religiously excluded from the precincts 
of Hampton Court Palace private apartments if the Honor- 
able Philippa had had her way ; but Lady Littletown 
took it as a matter of course that several of the officers of 
the barracks should be invited, to add eclat to the pro- 
ceedings, and as the Honorable Isabella sided with her, 
invitation-cards were sent, and, for reasons that Glen could 
not have explained to himself, were accepted. 

“ Yes, I’ll go, if it’s only to show her that I am not cast 
down. I’ll go and see her married. I’ll see her sell her- 
self into slavery, and I hope she may never repent her step.” 

The next hour, though, he said he would not go, and he 
was about to keep to his determination, when Dick came 
in, and announced that he had received an invitation. 

“ You’ll go, of course? ” 

“ Go ? No ; why should I ? ” 

“ Just to show that you are a man of the world ; no 
woman should fool me and make me seem like the chap in 
the song — ‘ wasting in despair — die, because a woman’s 
fair ’ — you know. Oh, I’d go.” 

Glen sat thinking for awhile. 

“ I wouldn’t be cut up, you know.” 

“ If I thought tnat she threw me over of her own free 
will, Dick, I would not care a sou ; but I believe that 
wicked old hag, her Aunt Philippa, has forced her into it.” 

“ Then you need not care a sou.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Marie told me she accepted Elbraham for his coin.” 

“ Yes ; she intimated as much to me.” 

“ She did ! When ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


233 


“ Oli, the other day — the last time I saw her — when I 
had been to the private apartments, you know.” 

“ Oh yes. Ah, to be sure,” said Dick, who seemed 
much relieved. “ Oh, I’d go, dear boy ; I would indeed.” 

“ I will go,” said.Glen with energy ; and on the appoint- 
ed day he went. 

Hampton Court had not seen a more brilliant wedding 
for years, and the preparations at the Honorable Misses 
Dymcox’s apartments so completely put Joseph off his 
head that he, the reputable young man who preached tem- 
perance to Buddy the flyman, and was carefully saving up 
all his money to add to the savings of Markes for the purpose 
of taking a lodging house, was compelled to fly to stimulants 
to sustain him. 

The very way in which the dining-room was “ done up,” 
as he called it, “with flowers and things,” staggered him, 
and it seemed no wonder that the greeny stone basin in the 
middle court should sound quite noisy as the big squirt 
in the centre made more ambitious efforts than usual to 
mount the sky, and the old gold and silver fish stare more 
wonderingly as they sailed round and round. 

But Joseph was not alone in being off his head and flying 
to stimulants ; even cook was as bad, and was found by 
Markes standing at the door and talking to a soldier — the 
greatest treason in Markes’ eyes that a woman could com- 
mit — and reprimanded thereon, with the consequence that 
cook rebounded like a spring, and struck the austere, tem- 
perate, unloving Markes. 

It was no wonder, for the sacred department of 
cook had been invaded by strange men in white apparel 
to such an extent that from being angry she grew hysteri- 
cal, and went to Markes, apologetic and meek, for com- 
fort, vowing that she couldn’t “abear” soldiers; but she 
was so humbled by the austere damsel that she turned to 
Joseph, who administered to her from the same cup as 
that wherefrom he obtained his relief. 

The wearers of the white caps and jackets brought a 
batterie de cuisine , bombarded and captured the room set 
apart for cooking, and then and there proceeded to build 
up strange edifices of sugar, concoct soups, sweets, and all 
and sundry of those meats which are used to furnish forth 
a wedding feast. 

The cases of wines that came in took away Joseph’s 
breath, but he revived a little at the sight of the flowers, 


234 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


and shortly afterwards relapsed, staying in a peculiarly 
misty state of mind and a new suit of livery to the end of 
the proceedings, during which time he had a faint recollec- 
tion of seeing the Honorable Philippa greatly excited and the 
Honorable Isabella very tremulous, as they went about in 
new dresses, made in the style worn by the late Queen Ade- 
laide, making them both bear some resemblance to a 
couple of human sprigs of lavender, taken out, carefully 
preserved, from some old box, where they had been lying 
for the past half century. 

It was a very troublous time, and Joseph wished his head 
had been a little clearer than it was. Those wide-spread- 
ing Queen Adelaide bonnets and feathers seemed to dance 
before his eyes and to confuse him. So did the constantly 
arriving company ; but, still, he recalled a great deal. For 
instance, he had a lively recollection of the smell of his 
“ bokay,” as he called it ; of the young ladies going to the 
service at the church and coming back in a carriage, be- 
hind which he stood with an enormous white favor and the 
bouquet in his breast, while some boys shouted “ Hurray ! ” 
He remembered that, but it did not make him happy, for 
he could never settle it thoroughly in his own mind whe- 
ther that “hurray ” was meant for him or for the bride. 

That affair of the bride, too, troubled Joseph a good deal, 
and, but for the respect in which he held the family, or the 
awe in which he stood of the Honorable Philippa, he would 
have resented it strongly. 

Certainly there were only two horses to the carriage be- 
hind which Joseph * stood, but it was a particularly good 
carriage, hired from a London livery stables, with capital 
horses and a superior driver, who looked quite respectable 
in the hat and coat kept on purpose for Buddy the fly- 
driver, although he grumbled at having to put them on, as 
Buddy had been intoxicated upon the last occasion of his 
wearing them, and had somewhat taken off their bloom 
through going back to his stables and wearing them while 
he lay down in the straw for a nap. 

Upon that occasion Joseph had seriously lectured Buddy 
upon the evils of intemperance. 

“ Look at me,” he said ; “ I can drink a glass of ale 
without its hurting me.” 

“ Well, the things ain’t improved, suttenly,” said Buddy 
in a repentant tone. Then scornfully : “ But as to you 
and your slooshun of biled brewer’s aperns that you calls 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


235 


ale, why, you might wet-miss babies on it, and it wouldn’t 
hurt ’em so long as you didn’t do it when it’s sour.” 

“ But it’s a very, very bad habit, Buddy,” exclaimed 
Markes ; “ just look at that hat.” 

“ Ah, you’ll have worse jobs than that some of these 
days when you marries a sojer.” Mrs. Markes bounced out 
in disgust. 

“ How she do hate to hear the soldiers mentioned, sure- 
ly,” chuckled Buddy. “Why, she can’t abear ’em. But 
she needn’t be so hard about a fellow getting a drop ; it’s a 
great comfort. She don’t know what it is, and never got 
to that stage, Joe, when everything about you as you taste 
and touch and smell feels as if it was soft and nice, and as 
if you’d tumbled into a place as was nothing else but 
welwet.” 

Tne result was that Buddy’s hat and coat were thor- 
oughly taken in hand by Markes and furbished up, the 
overcoat having to be rubbed and turpentined and brushed 
till it was more in keeping with the style of a wedding gar- 
ment, while the hat was “ gone over ” with a sponge and 
flat-iron, to the production of a most unearthly gloss, anent 
which Buddy chaffed the new driver. But of course that 
was on account of jealousy, that he, the regular ladies’ 
coachman, and his musty-smelling, jangling fly and mea- 
grimed horse should be set aside upon an occasion when 
there would have been “a bite to get and a sup o’ suthin’ 
just to wash out a fellow’s mouth.” For Buddy had a 
laudable desire to keep his mouth clean by washing it out ; 
and he resented the insult to his dignity upon this occasion 
by going to the Mitre Tap, and washing out his mouth 
till he was unable to take this clean mouth home. 

As the Dymcoxes sported so dashing a turn out, and 
Joseph handed in the bride and took her to church, what 
he wanted to know was why Elbraham should take her 
back in his four-horse chariot. Of course he would take 
her away in it afterwards ; but according to Joseph’s idea 
it would have been far more respectful to the Honorable 
Dymcoxes if Elbraham had come with his young wife in 
the hired carriage along with him. 

This was a trouble to Joseph, which he objected to 
largely, wearing a soured and ill-used look on the way 
back from Hampton Church ; and he was not a great 
deal better when, meeting Elbraham on the staircase, 
that gentleman slipped a five-pound note in his hand. 


236 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


The bride looked very beautiful, and Joseph heard that 
she wore real lace, and it covered her nearly from to]) to toe. 
The white satin dress, too, was wonderfully stiff and good, 
while her bouquet, sent with those for the bridesmaids, in so 
many neat wooden boxes from the central avenue of Covent 
Garden, was “quite a picter,” so Joseph said. 

But somehow it was all a muddle, and Joseph could 
make neither head not tail of it. He felt as if he must 
seize and ring the dinner-bell, or carry in the form for 
prayers. For instance, there was that Lord Henry Moor- 
park there, and Captain Glen, and Mr. Richard Millet, 
who had tipped him over and over again, and ought to have 
married the ladies. They were there, and so was that tall, 
dark Major Malpas who always “ looked at him as if he had 
been a dog ; ” and lots more people crowding into the rooms, 
“and a-eating, and drinking, and talking till the place was 
a regular bubble.” 

Joseph either meant Babel or a state of effervescence, 
both similes being applicable to the condition of the 
private apartments on the auspicious day, as it was called 
by Lord Henry, who played the part of “ heavy father” in 
the genteel comedy in course of enaction. 

Then Joseph — who told himself he had never seen such 
a set-out since he came, a hungry page from the orphan 
school — wanted to know why Captain Glen, who had been 
so huffed about Miss Clotilde’s marriage, should be there, 
and look so jolly, and propose the health of the bride. 
“ It seemed rum,” Joseph said, “ though certainly him and 
Miss Marie looked pretty thick now, while little Mr. Millet 
sat next to Miss Ruth,” who, to the man’s notions, looked 
“ the prettiest of the lot.” 

Joseph saw and heard a good deal. He saw Major 
Malpas place his glass in his dark eye, and, bringing the 
thick brow over it, stare very hard at the bride, who did 
not seem to mind it in the least — a fact which made the 
philosopher declare that “ Miss Clo had got face enough 
for anything.” 

He also heard Major Malpas, who was perfect in his 
dress and handsome bearing, say to one of the guests 
who had made some remark respecting Glen’s appearance, 
that the captain was a fine animal, that was all. “ Too big 
for a soldier, sah. Looks like a big mastiff, sah, taking 
care of that little toy-terrier Millet.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


237 


Joseph’s notions of the wedding feast were very much 
after the fashion of the celebrated coat of his ancient 
namesake, of many colors, and those colors were terribly 
- muddled up in his brain. They were bad enough before 
the matter of that five-pound note occurred ; after that 
the unfortunate young man’s ideas were as if shaken up 
in a bottle to a state of neutral tint in which nothing was 
plain. 

He put that five-pound note, crumpled as it was, either 
in his breeches or his behind coat-pocket, but what became 
of it afterwards he could not tell. He might have taken 
it out to hold a hot plate, to use as a d’oyley, or to wipe 
his nose, or to dab up the wine that Mr. Elbraham spilt when 
he upset his champagne-glass. He might or he mightn’t. 
He couldn’t say then. All he knew was that it muddled 
him, and that the dinner-bell hadn’t been rung, nor the 
form carried in for prayers. 

There was another idea came into his head, too, acting 
like so much leaven, or as an acid powder poured into the 
neutral alkaline solution already shaken up in his brain. 
There were those two waiters from Bunter’s standing by 
when Mr. Elbraham gave him the five-pound note, and one 
of them winked at the other. Joseph could not say that one 
of those young men took that five-pound note. He was 
not going so far as to say it. What he was going to say 
was that they weren’t above taking two bottles of cham- 
pagne back into the pantry and drinking them out of tum- 
blers, and that a man who would take a bottle of wine that 
didn’t belong to him might go so far as a five-pound note. 

Joseph grew worse as the morning wore on. He felt as 
if he must go and quarrel with Markes, and a great deal of 
what he recalled after may have been nothing but the 
merest patchwork of nebulous theories of his own gathered 
together in a troublous time. For it was not likely that 
Captain Glen would have been standing holding Miss 
Ruth’s hand, and making her blush, as he called her his 
dear child, and said she was the best and sweetest little 
thing he had ever met, and that lie should never forget her 
kindness and sympathy. 

Joseph certainly thought he heard Captain Glen say that, 
and he was near enough to have heard him say it ; but he 
remembered afterwards that when lie turned he caught sight 
of Mr. Montaigne smiling in a peculiar way, but whether at 


238 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


him (Joseph), or at Captain Glen and Miss Ruth, he was 
not sure. It was a curious sort of smile, Joseph thought, 
exactly like that which Buddy’s old horse gave, drawing 
back its teeth before it tried to bite, and it made Joseph 
shiver. 

He might have been in everybody’s way or he might not, 
but the Honorable Philippa said that he was to stop about 
and make himself useful, and of course he did ; for if cook 
chose to give up her kitchen to a set of foreign chiefs — he 
meant chefs — he was not going to be ousted by Bunter’s 
waiters, even if some of them were six feet high, and one 
of them looked like a nobleman’s butler. Miss Philippa 
said he was to make himself useful, and see that the visitors 
had plenty, and he did, though it was very funny to see 
how little some people took, though that wasn’t the case 
with others. 

It was while busying himself directly after the company 
had left the table that he came upon Captain Glen talking 
to Miss Ruth. 

No, it wasn’t Miss Ruth that time ; it was Miss Marie. 
Yes, of course it was ; and Captain Glen was saying : 

“ No, Marie ; I hope I am too much of a man to break 
my heart about a weak, vain woman. You saw how I 
behaved this morning? Well, I behaved as I felt — a little 
hurt, but heart-whole. Poor foolish girl ! I trust that she 
will be happy.” 

“ I hope so, too,” Marie had answered. i( I am sorry, 
Captain Glen, and I am very glad.” 

“ Why ? ” he asked. 

“ Because I am sure that Clotilde would never have made 
you happy.” 

She gazed up at him in a curious way as she spoke, and 
it seemed to Joseph that Captain Glen looked puzzled and 
wondering. Then his face lit up, and he was going to 
speak to Miss Marie, when little Richard Millet came rush- 
ing up, saying : 

“ I say, Glen, hang it all ! play fair. Don’t monopolize 
the company of all the ladies. Miss Marie, may I have the 
pleasure ? ” 

He offered his arm as if he were going to take her 
through some dance instead of from the big landing 
amongst the flowers into the drawing-room ; but "instead of 
taking the offered arm, Joseph seemed to see that Miss 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


239 


Marie bowed gravely, and, looking handsome and queen- 
like, laid her hand upon the arm of Lord Henry Moorpark, 
who, very quiet and grave, had been hovering about ever 
since they rose from the table. Then the old gentleman 
had walked off with her, leaving little Mr. Millet very cross, 
and it seemed to Joseph that he said something that sound- 
ed like a bar across a river, but whether it was weir or 
dam, Joseph’s brains were too much confused to recall. 

In fact, all this came out by degrees in the calm and 
solitude of his pantry, when lie had recovered next day 
from a splitting headache ; and then it was that he recalled 
how foolishly everybody behaved when Miss Clotilde 
— Mrs. Elbraham, he meant — went off with her rich hus- 
band : how Miss Philippa wept upon her neck, and Miss 
Isabella trembled, and her hands shook, when she kissed 
the young wife ; how Mr. Montaigne seemed to bless her, 
and afterwards go and stand by Miss Ruth, taking her hand 
and drawing it through his arm, patting the hand at the 
same time in quite a fatherly way. 

Lady Anna Maria Morton, too, was there, standing with 
that stuck-up Mr. “ Rawthur ” Litton, and Miss Marie 
with Lord Henry, and Lady Littletown, who seemed to 
have the management of the whole business, with Captain 
Glen ; and at last, after the Honorable Philippa had kissed 
Mrs. Elbraham once again, and then nearly fainted in 
little Dick Millet’s arms, the bride and bridegroom passed 
on towards the carriage, while people began to throw 
white slippers at them, and shower handfuls of rice, some 
of which fell on the bride’s bonnet and some upon the 
bridegroom, a good deal going down inside his coat-collar 
and some in his neck. But he went on smiling and bowing, 
and looking, Joseph thought, very much like a publican 
who had been dressed up in tight clothes, and then in con- 
sequence had burst into a profuse perspiration. 

Glen was standing close by the carriage with a half-laugh 
upon his face as the bridegroom passed, and Joseph thought 
he looked very tall and strong and handsome, and as if he 
would like to pitch Mr. Elbraham into the middle of the 
fountain. 

And then, just as they were getting into the carriage, it 
seemed to Joseph that Miss Clotilde — he meant Mrs. El- 
braham, the rich financier’s wife — turned her head and 
looked at Captain Glen in a strange wild way, which made 


240 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


him turn aside and look at Miss Marie, when the bride 
went for the first time into a hysterical fit of sobbing as she 
was helped into the carriage, where Mr. Elbraham followed 
her smiling red smiles. The steps were rattled up, the door 
banged, the. footman waited a moment as the chariot moved 
away, and then sprang up into the rumble beside Mrs. El- 
braham’s maid, and away went the chariot as fast as four 
good post horses could take it towards London, bound for 
Charing Cross Station. 

What took place at the private apartments afterwards 
Joseph did not know, for long before the chariot had 
reached Richmond, the honest serving-man’s head was 
wedged in a corner between the press bedstead in the pan- 
try and the wall, and his confused ideas had gone off into 
dreamland, apparently on the back of a snorting horse, 
bent on recovering a certain five-pound note which was 
required for tying up a white satin slipperful of rice, which 
had been emptied out of Mr. Elbraham’s glass into a Lin- 
coln and Bennett hat. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

Gertrude’s husband. 

Meanwhile the days glided on so peacefully for John 
Huish and his wife, that it seemed to him as if at last the 
ghost which had haunted his life had been laid. 

Sir Humphrey was spending the evening with them, and 
Dick was expected, as Gertrude was seated in her little 
drawing-room at the piano, singing one of the sad old me- 
lodies that pleased her uncle so well. Her husband was 
leaning on the instrument gazing down into her gentle eyes, 
as she looked up at him with her countenance full of the 
calm joy she felt in the presence of the man of her choice. 
He was strange at times, but that did not trouble her, for 
he was gentle and loving always, ready to humor her 
slightest whim, and kindness itself to the feeble old gentle- 
man who loved to come and prattle and prose in their quiet 
little home. 

“John,” she whispered, as her fingers strayed over the 
keys, and her voice was rather sad. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


241 


“ My darling,” he said softly. 

“ Do you know what it is to feel so happy that it seems 
as if it could not last? ” 

“ Yes,” he said, bending lower over her ; *' I have felt so 
ever since the day when you consented to be my little wife, 
and still it lasts.” 

The piano was again going softly, and for the third time 
Gertrude sang, in a voice that lulled the old gentleman off 
to sleep, “ Love’s Young Dream:” 

“ Let it be always ‘ Love’s Young Dream,’ ” whispered 
Huish, as he sank down on one knee beside the music- 
stool. “ Gertrude, darling, I am so happy that it is like 
being in a dream, one from which we will never let the 
world wake us with its troubles.” 

She let her head rest upon his shoulder, and her arm was 
thrown tightly round his neck. 

“ Yes,” she whispered ; “ let us dream.” 

“ Yes,” he replied, “ we two always. I can feel that here 
within these arms I hold all the world — that Heaven has 
been so bounteous to me that I can never be sufficiently 
grateful, and ” 

He rose quickly, for there was a step outside, and a ser- 
vant entered. 

“ If you please, sir, there are two gentlemen want to see 
you downstairs.” 

Huish turned pale, for a strange sense of coming trouble 
flashed upon him. 

“ Did they send up their names ? ” he said recovering 
himself. 

“ No, sir, only said would you be kind enough to step 
down, sir, without disturbing my mistress. It was some- 
thing particular.” 

“ Is any thing wrong, John?” said Gertrude earnestly. 

“Wrong? No, my dear, I hope not. Some bit of 
business : people for a subscription or something. I shall 
be back directly. Go on playing, or we shall wake your 
father.” 

She nodded and smiled as she resumed her seat at the 
piano ; and as Huish went quietly out of the room, the sad 
strain of olden days his wife was playing seemed to grow 
more and more mournful when the notes were muffled by 
the closed door. 

“ Where are the gentlemen, Jane ? ” he said quietly. 

16 


242 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ In the dining-room, sir,” said the girl, with a strange 
look ; and as he entered she stood waiting on the mat. 

One of the gas-burners was alight, and Huish started as, 
on entering the room, he found himself face to face with a 
dark, stern-looking man, and a policeman, who immediate- 
ly placed his back against the door. 

“Is anything the matter?” said Huish quickly. 

“Well, yes, a little, ” said the stern, dark man. “Mr. 
Huish — John Huish?” 

“ Yes ; I am John Huish.” 

“ Then you are my prisoner, Mr. John Huish ; here is 
the warrant. Smith — cuffs ! ” 

“ Stop ! One minute ! ” exclaimed Huish excitedly. 
“ What does this mean ? ” 

“ Only the end of the little game, sir,” said the dark, stern 
man. “ Long lane that has no turning. Turning’s come 
at last 1 ” 

“ I do not understand you. Some mistake.” 

“Yes, sir, these matters always are little mistakes. Ar* 
you ready ? ” 

“No! Stop!” cried Huish. “Send that man away. 
You need not secure me. I will go with you.” 

The stern man relaxed a little, and smiled. 

“Won’t do,” he said. “ We’ve had too much trouble to 
run you down, sir. You well-educated ones are too pre- 
cious clever. We’ve got a cab waiting.” 

“ But my wife — my — we have company here.” 

“ There, come along, sir, and get away quietly without 
letting them know. It’s no use trying any -dodges on, 
because we’ve got you, and don’t mean to let you slip.” 

“Tell me at least what it means !” cried Huish. 

“The big burglary last night, if you want to know for 
which little game it is ; but don’t be uneasy.” 

“ My hat and overcoat,” said Huish quickly. “ Get me 
away quietly, so that they do not see upstairs. I tell you, 
man, that I will not try to escape you. I have only to go 
to the station to explain that this is a mistake.” 

“ Get the gentleman’s hat and coat,” said the plain- 
clothes officer ; and the policeman opened the door so sud- 
denly that the maid was caughLlistening. 

“ Jane, here, quick ! ” cried Huish. “ Tell your mistress 
after we are gone that I am suddenly called away on busi- 
ness.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


243 


“ And won’t be back to-night, my dear,” said the officer. 
“ Now, sir, are you ready ? ” 

Huish nodded, feeling confused and prostrated by the 
suddenness of the seizure. For a moment he half felt dis- 
posed to resist, but he refrained, and, stepping into the 
hall, the girl opened the door just as Dick came up the 
steps. 

“ Why, Huish ! ” he cried in astonishment. 

11 Hush !” cried the other. “ Not a word to Gertrude. 
There is some mistake. Go up to your father, and bring 
him round to the station. It will be a question of bail, eh, 
constable ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I should think it would,” said the officer drily ; 
and, taking his prisoner’s wrist, he hurried him into the 
cab. 

“ Then it must be all true about him, and he’s caught at 
last,” muttered Dick, whose throat felt dry and lips 
parched. “ Poor little Gertrude ! What will her ladyship 
say ? ” 

He stood thinking of what he should do as the cab rolled 
away, and then entered slowly, feeling that he must leave 
matters a good deal to chance. But the deepest-laid scheme 
for breaking the news would have been blown to the winds, 
for the maid had hurried up open-mouthed to blurt out to 
Gertrude that master had been look, and that they were 
going to handcuff him and put him to prison for burglary. 

“ Is this girl mad, Dick ? ” said Gertrude, who was trem- 
bling violently, while Sir Humphrey stood up, hardly yet 
awake. 

“ Some cock-and-bull nonsense — a blunder, I suppose,” 
replied Dick hastily, 

“ But she says the police— have taken my husband.” 

“ They — they — they are always making these confounded 
blunders, my dear,” exclaimed the old man, “ There, 
there, be quiet, my dear, Dick and I will go and see.” 

“ Yes, father, I was going to propose it, John wishes 
us to go. There, Gertrude, don’t be stupid. I’ve no doubt 
it’s all right.” 

“ Dick,” she cried, catching his arm and gazing in his 
face ; “ you don’t think so. There is some great trouble. 
What is it ? ” 

“ I don’t know — I can’t tell ; only that you are hindering 
us when we might be of service to John. Be a woman, 


244 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Gertrude, and take all that comes as a wife should. There, 
there, don’t cry. I’ll come back as soon as I can.” 

“ I must go with you,” she cried. “ If my husband is in 
prison my place is by his side.” 

“ Yes, yes, my dear,” said the old man querulously ; 
“ that’s what they say in books, but the law won’t stand it. 
Come along, Dick. I say, my boy,” he whispered, as they 
reached the hall, “ it’s precious hard on me that my sons-in- 
law should get into such scrapes. What has John been 
doing ? ” 

“ Heaven knows, father, but I fear the worst,” whispered 
Dick ; but his words were heard upstairs by Gertrude, who 
was leaning over the balustrade, and the poor girl staggered 
back into the little drawing-room to sob as if her heart 
would break. 

“ But I must be a woman and act,” she said, drying her 
eyes hastily ; and ringing, she despatched the girl with 
a short note to her sister, begging her to come back in the 
cab directly with the messenger. Then she sat down 
patiently to wait, after declining the cook’s offer of help. 

Ten minutes afterwards there was a quick ring at the 
bell, and the remaining servant answered the door. 

Gertrude ran to the landing, and glanced down, to utter 
a cry of joy, for at that moment a well-known voice 
exclaimed roughly : 

“Where is your mistress? ” and she ran down to meet 
her husband in the hall. 

John Huish seemed to Gertrude greatly excited and hur- 
ried. There was something strange, too, in his way which 
she could not understand, but set it down to that which he 
had gone through. 

“ Oh, John,” she began, clinging to him ; but he checked 
her, keeping his face half averted, and speaking in a harsh 
whisper. 

“ Hush ! ” he exclaimed. “ Not a word. Go down.” 

This to the servant, who tossed her head at the imper- 
ative order and left the hall. 

“ Now,” he said, “ quick — your hat and jacket ! I have 
a cab waiting.” 

“Are we going out, dear? ” she said inquiringly. “ I 
have just sent for Ren£e.” 

“ How foolish ! ” he cried. “ But waste no time.” 

“ Where are we going ? ” she asked wondering at his 
strange, impetuous manner. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


245 


“ Don’t waste time, dear,” he cried, “ but get ready. 
You shall know all as we go.” 

Gertrude’s tears began to flow and half blinded her, but 
she hurried away to prepare herself, while Huish walked 
quickly from room to room muttering impatiently. Not 
that there was much need, for Gertrude reappeared at the 
end of a minute or two rapidly tying on her hat, to find the 
gas turned down. 

“ I am ready, dear,” she said, laying her hand upon his 
arm. 

“ That’s right,” he cried. “ Come along ! ” 

“ Shall I tell cook how long we shall be ? ” said Ger- 
trude. 

“ No, no. Come along,” he cried impatiently, and, hur- 
rying her out of the house, he helped her into a cab. 
“ Cannon Street Station,” he cried to the driver, and jump- 
ing in beside her, the cab rattled off. 

“ Are we going to leave town, dear? ” 

“ You’ll soon see,” lie cried. “ I can’t talk to you now ; 
the cab-wheels make so much noise. Can’t you trust me?” 

“ Oh yes,” sue cried, laying her hand upon his arm, “ but 
you forget how anxious I am to know more.” 

“ Well, well, be patient,” he cried. “ There, if you must 
know, I have been short of money.” 

“Yes, dear, of course. I knew. You forget,” she said 
piteously. 

“ Yes, of course,” he replied. “ Well, I was arrested for 
debt, and I have got away. We must stay in private — 
there, I’ll speak plainly: in hiding for a time.” 

“ Oh, John dear, this is very terrible ! ” she cried. “ Why 
not go to Uncle Robert? He would help us, I am sure.” 

“ Yes, perhaps so. We will settle that afterwards. The 
first thing is to get to a place of safety.” 

“ Safety, John dear ? ” 

“ Well, you don’t want me to remain in prison ? ” he 
said. 

“ Oh no, dear,” she cried, clinging to him. “ But, Dick 
— my father.” 

“ What about them ? ” he said sharply. 

“ What did they say to you ? ” 

“ When ? How ? ” he asked. 

“ They came after you, dear,” she said simply. 

“ Oh yes ; they are busy with the police, of course.” 


246 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


She sat listening to the noise of the cab-wheels as it 
rattled along in the direction of the city. 

Nothing more was said till the vehicle drew up, when 
Huish leaped out and helped her to alight. He then hand- 
ed the cabman a liberal fare and exclaimed ; “ come along 
or we shall miss the train.” 

He hurried her into the station, along the platform, and 
into the waiting-room. 

“ Sit down a minute,” he exclaimed, and he went to the 
door to look out, but returned directly, looking so strange 
that Gertrude shrank from him involuntarily, and had to 
make an effort to master a curious feeling of repugnance 
which came over her. 

He drew her arm quickly through his, and, bidding her 
lower her veil, led her hastily out of the station, across the 
road and into a narrow lane. 

“ Are we not going by train ? ” she asked 

“ No ; it is too late. Just gone. Come along, and don’t 
talk.” 

She hurried along by his side, for he was walking very 
fast, and only noticed that they went through a perfect 
maze of narrow turnings, now up, now down, Huish stop- 
ping from time to time to look back to see if they were fol- 
lowed. 

He kept this up for nearly an hour, and Gertrude 
was getting hot and exhausted, when he turned sharply 
into a darker and narrower lane, glancing rapidly up and 
down the deserted place with its two or three lamps and 
dimly-lighted public-house. The next moment he had 
thrust her into a heavy door-way, there was a rattle of a 
latch-key, and Gertrude felt herself drawn into a dark pas- 
sage, and the door was closed. 

“ John ! ” she whispered, as the tremor which had before 
attacked her returned. 

“ Safe at last ! ” he muttered, drawing his breath with 
a low hiss, and not heeding her words. “ Tired ? ” 

“Rather, dear,” she panted. “But, John, what place 
is this ? ” 

“ My sanctuary,” he said, in a peculiar voice. “ Give 
me your hand, pome along. I’ll tell you when the stairs 
begin.” 

He led her along the dark passage, and a strange chill 
of dread strupk upon Gertrude. As they reached the first 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


247 


landing, a light suddenly shone out, and a few steps higher 
she gazed wonderingly at the weird figure of an old woman, 
with long, grey, unkempt hair, holding an ill-smelling paraf- 
fin lamp high above her head. 

There was an intent, curious, inquiring look in the old 
woman’s eyes, as they seemed to fasten upon the new-comer, 
gradually growing vindictive, as they passed her without a 
word. 

“ Who is that ? ” whispered Gertrude. 

“ Servant,” said Huish laconically. “ Won’t make you 
jealous, eh ? ” 

“ John,” she whispered back in a pained voice ; “ why 
do you speak to me like that ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s only my way,” he said flippantly. “ Come 
along.” 

They went up farther, and, reaching the second floor, 
Huish threw open the door of a comfortable, well-lit room, 
and drew her in, hastily opened the door of communication 
with the next room, satisfied himself that it was empty, 
went on and locked the farther door leading out to the 
landing, and returned. 

“ There,” he said ; “ you will be safe here.” 

“Oh yes, John dear,” she said, gazing at him wonder- 
ingly, his manner seemed so strange ; “ but I am so anxious 
to know.” 

“ Yes, yes ; all in good time, dear,” he cried. “ There, 
off with that hat and jacket. Why, my dear,” he cried, 
“ you look lovely ! ” 

There was a hot red spot in his cheeks as he spoke in a 
curiously excited way, and Gertrude felt a strange sense of 
shrinking as he hastily snatched away her jacket, threw it 
on the chair, and clasped her in his arms. 

“ John,” she cried, struggling to free herself, “ look ! 
look ! ” 

He loosed his grasp, and turned suddenly upon a figure 
which stood in the doorway, that of a tall handsome woman, 
looking ghastly pale, and her great eyes dilated with rage 
and surprise. She had evidently risen from a sick couch, 
and wore a long loose white dressing-gown, which, with 
her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, gave her an 
almost supernatural look, heightened by the silence in 
which she gazed from one to another. 

“ What are you doing here? ” cried Huish sharply. “ I 
thought you were in bed — ill.” 


248 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ I was,” replied the woman slowly, “ till 1 heaid you 
return.” 

“ Go back to it then,” he said brutally ; “ why do you 
come here ? ” 

Gertrude shrank back towards the couch, as the 
woman slowly entered, with her eyes fixed fiercely upon 
her, and the door swung to. 

“ Who is this ? ” she cried, in a low angry voice. 

“ Take no notice of her. I will get her away,” whispered 
Huish, crossing to Gertrude’s side. “ She is mad.” 

“ No, girl, I am not mad,” said the woman sternly ; for 
her hearing seemed to have been sharpened by her illness, 
and she had heard every word. ‘‘John Huish,” she said 
sternly, “ answer me — who is this ? *’ 

Gertrude’s eyes dilated with horror. She was confused 
and startled. She could not comprehend her position or 
why they were there ; and as the recollection of the happy 
evening she had spent came to mingle with the chaos of 
fancies and surmises that bewildered her brain, it seemed 
to her like some strange nightmare, from which she felt that 
she would soon awake into peace and repose. 

To make the scene more impressive, the heavy, deep 
booming of a clock striking midnight floated into the room 
with a strange jangle of other bells, some slow, some hur- 
ried, all bent on proclaiming the same fact — that another 
day was dead, another being born. 

As the woman repeated her question, Huish’s eyes grew 
dark with rage, and he pointed to the door. 

“ Go down,” he said, “ at once, or— — ” 

She shrank from him for a moment as she saw his look ; 
but her jealous rage mastered her fear, and she stepped 
farther into the room. 

Huish seemed undecided what to do ; he glanced at 
Gertrude, then at the woman, and then back to see that 
the former was looking at him imploringly, as if asking 
him to end the scene. 

“ Go back to bed,” he said firmly ; “ you are ill ; ” and 
he laid his hand upon the woman’s arm. 

“ Worse in mind than in body ! ” she cried, starting 
away. “ Girl,” she continued passionately, “ you look 
truthful and unspoiled ; tell me who you are.” 

“ Oh yes ! ” said Gertrude quickly, as she advanced with 
extended hand, and a look of pity in her face. “ I am 
Mrs. Huish.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


249 


The woman’s lower jaw dropped, and a blank, stony look 
came into her eyes. 

“ Married ! ” she said hoarsely. “ Are you his wife — to- 
day ? ” 

“ Oh no ! ” said Gertrude wonderingly ; “for some time 
now. You are ill and delicate. Can I do anything for 
you ? ” 

“ No, no — no, no ! Don’t touch me ; I could not bear 
it. Tell me once more.” 

“ Here, enough of this ! ” cried Huish angrily. “ Go 
down ! ” 

“ Don’t touch her,” said Gertrude excitedly ; and she 
interposed. “She is ill — very ill. I am Mrs. John Huish,” 
she repeated. 

“ The woman he has wronged ? ” 

“ No, no ! ” said Gertrude, beginning to tremble, as she 
thought of the scene upon the stairs; “but you are ” 

“ That man’s lawful wife, whom he now casts aside for 
some pretty baby face that takes his fancy.” 

“ It is not true ! ” cried Gertrude with spirit ; “ my hus- 
band is a gentleman and the soul of honor.” 

“ It is true ! and that man is a liar — a cheat — a scoun — 
O God, I cannot bear it ! Let me die ! ” 

The woman threw up her hands and reeled. In another 
instant she would have fallen, but Huish stepped forward, 
caught her in his arms, and bore her out of the room, 
carrying her down to the next floor, while Gertrude, as she 
heard his receding steps, sank into a chair, and gazed 
blankly before her. 

She started up though, as Huish returned with a smile 
upon his face, and closed and locked the door. 

“ Poor thing ! ” he said lightly ; “ I am sorry she came 
up. Ill, you know. Her baby. Reason temporarily gone. 
She accuses everybody like that.” 

“John,” cried Gertrude, trembling, “ I cannot under- 
stand you to-night ; you are so strange and unlike yourself. 
Is what that poor creature says true ? Oh, I cannot bear 
to hear such words ! ” 

“ True ? is it likely ? ” he said, approaching her. “ Why, 
are you not my little wife ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” cried Gertrude, shrinking from him ; “ but 
tell ” . 

She stopped short, gazing at him wonderingly. Her 
hands went to her dilating eyes, and as the light of the 


250 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


lamp fell for the first time full upon him now, she uttered 
a cry of horror, her face became convulsed, and she ran to 
the door. 

“ It is not ” she paused wildly. 

“ Are you mad, too ? ” he cried, pursuing her and catch- 
ing her wrists. 

“ Yes — no — I don’t know,” she cried excitedly. “ Don’t 
touch me. I cannot bear it.” 

“ Silence ! ” he cried. “ Do you want to alarm the 
house? ” 

“ Oh no, no ! ” she panted ; “ but you frighten — you 
horrify me ! ” 

“ Hush ! Be silent ! ” 

“ No, no ! ” cried Gertrude, struggling, as he again seized 
her in his arms. “ Oh, help — help — help ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

POLICE BUSINESS. 

Dick Millet became quite the military officer as he 
reached the police-station with his father and proved that, 
if he possessed a very small body, it contained plenty of 
soul. He was staggered at the charge brought against his 
brother-in-law, that of being a party to a serious attempt at 
burglary on the previous night, and soon found that there 
was nothing to be done till the next day. He listened to 
Huish’s asseverations of innocence very quietly, but said 
nothing till he exclaimed : 

“ Why, Dick, you cannot believe me guilty of this mon- 
strous charge.” 

“ I can only believe one thing just now, John Huish,” 
he replied ; “ and that is that you are my dear sister’s hus- 
band, and that for her sake everything possible must be 
done to help you out of this dreadful scrape.” 

“ Yes,” cried Sir Humphrey feebly, “ of course — of 
course. And, John, my boy, I always liked you ; it’s a 
cursed impertinent lie, isn’t it?” 

“ It is indeed,” cried Huish earnestly ; “ unless — un- 
less ” 

He stopped, gazing from one to the other in a curious 
bewildered fashion. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


251 


11 Unless — unless what, my boy ? Why don’t you speak 
out ? ” 

“ Let it rest to-night, sir,” said Huish, in an altered 
voice. “ I am confused — shocked. Get me some good 
advice to-morrow, Dick, and when the examination comes- 
off, you will, of course, find bail.” 

Dick nodded, but did not shake hands. 

“I’ll do everything I can,” he said sternly. 

“ Won’t you shake hands? ” 

“ No,” replied Dick, “ not till you are cleared. Huish,” 
he said in a whisper, “ I shall work day and night to clear 
you for Gerty’s sake ; but I’ve heard some blackguardly 
things about you lately. This, though, is worse than all.” 

Huish turned from him, looking dazed and strange, to 
shake hands with Sir Humphrey, who began protesting to 
and scolding the inspector on duty. 

“ I — I — don’t believe a word of it,” he cried angrily. 
“ You — you — you police fellows* are always — yes, damme, 
always making mistakes of this kind, and — and, confound 
me, if I don’t have the matter brought before the House of 
Lords. Good-night, my dear boy, make them give you 
everything you want, and we’ll be here first thing in the 
morning. — It’s — it’s — it’s about the most disgraceful thing 
I ever knew, my dear Dick,” he said as soon as they were 
in the street ; “ but if you don’t take me on to the club and 
give me some supper I shall faint.” 

“You must be sharp, then, father. Gertrude will be 
horribly anxious.” 

“ Yes, yes, poor girl, she will ; but it will be all right to- 
morrow. I’m not so strong as I was, and this has upset 
me terribly.” 

There was no doubt about it, for the old gentleman 
looked very haggard. A hasty supper, however, restored 
him, and he left the club in pretty good spirits to accompany 
Dick to Westbourne Road, where they were met by the 
announcement that “ master came back a bit ago, and 
went away with missus.” 

“ What does this mean ? ” said Dick sternly. 

“ Mean, my boy ? Why, that he has got bail.” 

“I’m afraid not,” said Dick to himself, and, with the 
full belief that his brother-in-law had contrived to escape, 
he accompanied his father home, keeping, however, his 
thoughts to himself. 


252 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


In the morning, however, there was the news that a mes- 
sage had come for her ladyship to go to Wimpole Street, 
where Mrs. Huish had arrived on the previous night. 

“ Was John Huish there, too ? ” asked Dick sharply. 

“ I did not hear,” said her ladyship haughtily. “ I know 
nothing of such a person, and I will not have my name 
sullied by mention in connection with his.” 

“ But you’ll go and see Gertrude? ” 

“No,” exclaimed her ladyship. “It was Gertrude’s 
duty to come to me if she were in trouble. If she prefers 
her uncle’s help, let her enjoy it. I have no more to say, 
except that I shall not go ; and, Humphrey, I forbid you 
to go there — for the present.” 

“ And me, too,” said Dick quietly. 

“ You have long ceased to obey me,” said her ladyship 
austerely, “ and must take your own course. I will not, 
however, be dragged into this dreadful scandal.” 

“ Humph ! ” said Dick.' “ Then you let it all out, father, 
after you’d gone to bed.” 

“ Yes, my son, yes. Your mamma was very anxious, 
and I told her all.” 

“ As you like. I’m off now to secure counsel. We’ll 
have him out before night.” 

Lady Millet sighed and wiped her eyes, but no one paid 
any heed to her, so she consoled her injured feelings with 
a good breakfast. 

Meantime, John Huish sat through the night, thinking, 
and calling up from the past all the strange things that had 
been laid to his charge. 

“ What does it mean ? ” he said aloud. “ Am I a mad- 
man or a somnambulist, or do I lead a double life ? ” 

It was terrible, that being shut up in such a place ; for 
when the other prisoners were silent, there was a dreadful 
clock close by, which seemed in its cold, harsh, brazen way 
to goad him to distraction. It was a hurried clock, that 
always seemed manifesting itself and warning people of the 
flight of time, so that every quarter of an hour it fired off 
a vicious “ ting-tang ” in the two discordant notes that 
made a bad descending third, repeating itself at the half- 
hours, tripling at the third quarter, and at the hour snap- 
ping as it were at the world four times before allowing the 
hammer on another bell to rapidly go off slam — slam — 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


253 


slam , till its duty was done. “ Clocks are bad enough,” 
he thought, “from the warnings they give of how short our 
lives are growing ; but when a man is in trouble and bells 
are added, the effect is maddening indeed.” 

He sat trying to think till he was bewildered ; and at 
last, in a complete maze, he sat listening to the noisy sing- 
ing of a woman in the next cell, and the drunken bowlings 
of a man on the other side. 

“ My poor darling ! ” he cried at last ; “ it will almost 
break her heart. A burglary ! and if they should prove 
that I was guilty — oh, it is monstrous ! ” 

He tried to pace his cell, but it was too narrow, and he 
sat down again with his hands pressed to his forehead, with 
the mental darkness coming down upon him thicker than 
that of his cell. 

“ It’s like some nightmare,” he said at last, “ and as if 
in some way my brain were unhinged. Absence — absence 
of mind ! My God ! will a judge believe me if I say for 
defence that I committed a robbery in a fit of absence of 
mind ? One has read of strange things in people’s lives,” 
he thought after a time — “ how they have been totally un- 
conscious of what took place in one half of their existence. 
Is it possible that my life is divided into two parts, in each 
of which I am ignorant of what passes in the other? But 
who would believe it ! I’ll have Stonor here first thing to- 
morrow.” 

He sat with his mind growing darker and darker, and 
vainly struggling against the black oppression ; and at last, 
with a weary wail, he exclaimed, unconsciously : 

“ My poor darling, what a night for you ! Last night 
happy and admired — to-night — -oh, thank God — thank 
God ! ” 

For the light had come. 

The police declared that the burglary had taken place the 
previous night about nine o’clock at a City house, and that 
he was seen and nearly captured. Why, a dozen people 
could prove that he was at Dr. Stonor’s the whole evening. 

He rose and tapped sharply at his cell door. 

“ Now then,” said a rough voice. “ What is it? ” 

u Kindly ask the inspector to come here for a moment,” 
said Huish. 

The officer on night duty came from his desk where he 
had been entering the last charge. “ Well, sir,” he said, 
with official brevity. 


254 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Sorry to trouble you,” said Huish, “ but that burglary 
— when was it ? ” 

“ Nine o’clock last night — that is, the night before last, 
for it is now four o’clock.” 

“ Thank God,” said Huish, and he lay down upon that 
peculiarly soft bed provided by a humane Government at 
police stations for arrested people, and slept soundly for 
hours. 

“ Precious eager to know when the crack was done,” said 
the officer, as he looked in at the cell. “ Clever dodge — 
going to try an alibi l ” 

What was intended for a preliminary examination took 
place in the course of the afternoon, and the officer in 
charge of the case brought forward two or three witnesses 
to give a sufficiency of evidence to justify a remand, inform- 
ing the magistrate that he believed that he should be able 
to produce a long catalogue of crime against the prisoner 
who had succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the police for 
some time past. 

On the other side, however, the services of the rising 
young counsel, Mr. Douglas, had been secured. He made 
a brief and indignant address to the magistrate on the way 
in which the sanctity of Mr. Huish’s home had been in- 
vaded, and a gentleman dragged off to answer this disgrace- 
ful trumped-up charge. In conclusion, Mr. Douglas said 
he should bring forward witnesses whose social position 
was such that their testimony must be taken as unimpeach- 
able, and they would prove on oath that at the time when 
this gentleman — the defendant; he would not insult him 
by calling him the prisoner — was stated to have been seen 
by the police in company with some notorious scoundrels 
engaged in a burglary — his worship would excuse him for 
smiling, the charge was so absurd — Mr. Huish was par- 
taking of the hospitality of a well-known physician at his 
house at Highgate. 

“ Call Dr. Stonor.” 

Dr. Stonor stepped into the witness-box, was sworn, and 
stated that Mr. John Huish often dined with him at High- 
gate, and was there on the night in question, that he arrived 
there about seven, and did not leave till twelve, and was 
never out of his sight the whole time. 

Daniel Repson, Dr. Stonor’s confidential servant, testi- 
fied to the same effect. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


255 


Then Sir Humphrey Millet was sworn, and stated that 
he called at his son-in-law’s at six o’clock, and went up 
with him in the carriage to Highgate, and was set down at 
Grosvenor Square on the return. He certainly did have 
a nap after dinner, for about half an hour, but not for 
more. 

Mr. Richard Millet gave similar testimony, and lastly 
Miss Stonor was sworn, and stated that, saving the interval 
between leaving the table and tea-time, she saw Mr. Huish 
the whole evening. 

Mr. Douglas was of opinion that after the evidence of 
these witnesses his worship would dismiss the contemptible 
charge, and tell his client that he left the court without a 
stain upon his character. At the same time, he hoped the 
police would be more careful, for he. was informed that 
Mrs. Huish had been most terribly alarmed, and that the 
consequences might be serious. 

The police-sergeant was checkmated, and the prisoner 
was discharged at once, leaving the police court in the 
company of his friends. 

“ Yes,” said the sergeant grimly, “ he has done us this 
time ; but if we don’t put salt on his tail yet, I’ll leave the 
force.” 

John Huish shook hands neartily with the doctor, who 
eyed him rather curiously, and then turned to Dick, who 
was, however, very distant. 

“ You’ll come home with me,” he said ; but Dick shook 
his head. 

“Not now,” he said coldly; “another time. Come, 
father.” 

The old man shook hands heartily with his son-in-law, 
and whispered : 

“ Dick’s a bit put out, my dear John ; but it’s all right. 
I’ll put it all straight. I’ll bring him on to-night.” 

Huish nodded, and shook hands then with the doctor 
and Miss Stonor. 

“ Good-bye, doctor ; a thousand thanks ! Miss Stonor, 
you’ll excuse me. I am most anxious to get home.” 

Miss Stonor nodded and smiled, and Huish was turning 
away, when the doctor said : 

“ Run up and see me again soon.” 

Huish nodded assent and turned away, hailed the first 
hansom, and jumped in, the man smiling at him in a friendly 
way. 


256 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Home, sir ? ” he said. 

'‘Yes, quick. West ” 

“ All right, sir — I know,” cried the man, and away went 
the cab. 

“ Driven me before,” thought Huish, as he sank back in 
the cab. “ Poor little darling ! how she has been upset ! ” 

He lit a cigar and smoked it, to settle his nerves as he 
termed it, and then his thoughts turned to the affairs of the 
past night. 

“ And suppose I had not been able to bring all those 
witnesses to prove my innocence,” he thought. “ How 
horrible ! ” 

He moved about uneasily in his seat, for he was not 
satisfied. This was, after all, but another link in the strange 
chain of circumstances that had troubled him, and he shud- 
dered and threw away his cigar, for his nerves refused to be 
settled. Somehow, a strange uneasy feeling kept increasing 
upon him, and at last he raised the little trap and shouted 
to the man to go faster. 

“ Suppose she is ill ! ” he muttered. “ Poor darling ! 
what she must have suffered ! ” 

At last the cab was pulled up at the door, and Huish 
leaped out and ran up the steps without paying the man, 
who waited, while, not finding his latch-key, he rang sharply, 
and the cook answered the door. 

“ Where is your mistress ? ” he said sharply, 
i “ Missus, sir ? I haven’t seen her since last night.” 

“ What, has she gone home ? ” 

“ Home, sir ? I don’t know, sir — I mean, since you 
fetched her, sir.” 

“ Since I fetched her, woman ! Are you mad ? ” 

“ Not as I knows on, sir, said the woman, with the asper- 
ity of one in her profession. “ You ast me where missus was, 
and I says as I ain’t seen her since you fetched her last 
night.” 

“Since I fetched her last night ! You mean the night 
before, to go out to dinner — Dr. Stonor’s.” 

“No, sir, I don’t ; I mean the very last night as is, ’bout 
half an hour after you was took.” 

“ Yes, yes ; go on,” said Huish, turning ghastly pale. 

“ You come back and told missus quite sharp like to put 
on her things, and took her away in a cab.” 

“ Are you— dreaming ? ” faltered Huish, staggering back 
against the wall. 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


257 


“ Dreaming ! no, sir, of course not. And the poor dear 
got ready in a minute, and you both went off in a cab.” 

“ This is horrible ! ” groaned Huish. “ I never returned 
till now ; I did not come and fetch her.” 

[* Begging your pardon, sir, which you’ve forgot,” said a 
voice behind him ; and Huish turned round to find himself 
face to face with the cabman. 

“ Like me to wait, sir ? Didn’t pay me my fare. It was 
me as drove you and the lady last night.” 

“ You ! — what ? — me ? — the lady ? ” 

“ Of course, sir,” said the man, smiling. “ You hailed 
me in Praed Street, outside the station, and come on here, 
and you told me to wait. Five minutes after you comes 
out with the lady, and I took you down to Cannon Street.” 

“ This is horrible ! ” groaned Huish again ; and he 
clutched at the umbrella-stand to save himself from falling. 

“ The gent’s ill,” said the cabman hoarsely. 

“ Yes, ill — ill,” cried Huish ; “ no — better now. Tell 
me, both of you, did I come last night and fetch my wife? ” 

“ Course you did, sir,” said the cook in an injured tone, 
as if insulted at her veracity being impeached. 

“ If I might make so bold, sir,” said the cabman, “ I’d 
have a drop o’ short ; it’s nerves — that’s what it is. I get 
a bit touched so sometimes, after being on. Shall I drive 
you to ” 

“ A doctor’s? — yes,” groaned Huish. “Quick! — to 
Dr. Stonor’s, Highgate.” 

“ Highgate, sir ? Hadn’t you better go to one close by ? ” 

“ Quick, man ! — to Highgate,” cried Huish. “ Here.” 

He thrust a sovereign into the man’s hand, and ran down 
the steps to the cab. 

“ Right, sir,” cried the cabman, running after him and 
climbing to his perch. “ Lor’ ! ” he muttered as he started 
the horse, “how willing a suv. do make a man, toe be 
sure ! ” 

It seemed an age before the cab had climbed the long 
hill, and all the time John Huish sat back hatless, and hold- 
ing his head with both his hands, for it throbbed as though 
it would burst. Two or three times over he thrust up the 
trap to urge the man to hasten ; but during the latter part 
of the journey he sat back, fighting hard to restrain himself, 
for he felt that if he moved or spoke more he would begin 
to shriek and utter wild drivel. He was going mad— he 


258 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


was sure of it — and his mind would no longer bear the 
horrible strain of the bewildering thought. There was 
something wrong, and he could not master it. One sole 
thought now filled his mind, but in a hazy, strange way, 
and that was that he, in some other state, had fetched away 
his wife and destroyed her. 

At last, just as they neared the top of the hill, he became 
aware for the first time that the cabman was watching him, 
and he started angrily as the trap was shut down. 

“ Poor gent ! he have got it hot,” muttered the cabman ; 
and he gave his horse a touch with the whip, which made 
the weary beast exert itself a little more, and a few minutes 
later they were at the doctor’s iron gates. 

“ Shall I wait, sir ? ” said the man. 

Huish shook his head and jumped out to ring furiously 
at the bell. 

Daniel came down the path to meet him. 

“ I thought so,” he muttered, as he saw the excited looks 
of the visitor ; and he offered Huish his arm, for the young 
man staggered as the gate swung to. 

“ The doctor — quick ! ” said Huish, with his eyes look- 
ing staring and wild. 

“ In his study, sir — only just back from town,” said 
Daniel ; and he helped the tottering visitor quickly into 
the house, across the hall, and at once into the doctor’s 
room. 

“ Why, John — Huish, my dear boy, what is this ? ” 

“ Possessed — of a devil — doctor,” cried Huish thickly. 
“ For Heaven’s sake — help me — I’m going mad ! ” 

He sank back into an easy-chair gasping, and his face 
turned blue with the congestion of his veins ; then he 
babbled hoarsely a few unintelligible words, and became 
insensible. 

“ Basin — quick ! ” said the doctor ; and as his ready 
aide ran to a little mahogany stand, the doctor’s pocket- 
book was opened, a tiny steel blade glittered for a moment, 
and directly after the dark stream of John Huish’s life- 
blood was trickling from a vein. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


2 59 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 
potiphar’s wife. 

Clotilde seemed to find little difficulty after her return 
from the Continental trip in settling down into her new 
position in life. She made plenty of mistakes, no doubt, 
but Elbraham’s notions of management were so far from 
perfect that he proved to be no fair judge. His ideas 
were that his young wife should keep plenty of company, 
dress well, and do the honors of his house in excellent 
style. 

As far as display was concerned, this she did; and, 
Elbraham being nowise opposed to the plan, she frequently 
had Marie to stay with her. In fact, her sister would 
have quite taken up her abode at Palace Gardens had 
Ciotilde carried the day; but though she pressed her con- 
stantly, talked of her own dulness in town, and made 
various excuses for keeping Marie at her side, the latter 
refused to remain there long. 

Still, Marie was frequently at Palace Gardens, and when- 
ever she was staying in town, Lord Henry Moorpark made 
frequent calls, and was always pressed by Clotilde to 
return to dinner. 

The old gentleman smiled his thanks, and accepted the 
invitations with no little sign of pleasure ; but he made no 
farther advance in his suit, and seemed to resign himself 
calmly to his fate, and to be content to bask, so it appeared, 
in Marie’s presence ; she, for her part, always being kindly 
affected towards her elderly friend. The officers from 
Hampton Court, too, were frequent guests at Palace Gar- 
dens, dining there in state, but never when Marie was 
staying with her sister. 

“I wonder,” said Clotilde, rather archly to Glen, “that 
you do not try and exchange troops, so as to be stationed 
at Kensington instead of Hampton Court. I see some of 
your regiment is here,” 


26 o 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Yes/’ said Glen carelessly ; “ but really, Mrs. Elbra- 
ham, I think I like Hampton Court better than Kensing- 
ton.” 

Clotilde bit her lip, but she showed no further sign of 
annoyance, and the conversation changed. 

Had Glen been a vain man, he would have been de- 
lighted at the evident desire Clotilde now displayed for his 
company ; but there was little vanity in his composition. 
He told himself that he would treat her as if she had never 
made the slightest impression upon him ; and as, he could 
hardly tell why, he felt a kind of awakening interest in 
Marie, who he knew had refused Lord Henry Moorpark, 
he gladly accepted all invitations, in the hope of seeing 
more of Marie at her sister’s house, but only to be disap- 
pointed. 

Still, he encountered her occasionally at Hampton, 
sometimes at Lady Littletown’s — now and then in the Gar- 
dens, for their intercourse to be of the most distant kind if 
the Honorable Philippa was present ; but friendly — almost 
affectionate — if it were in the presence of the Honorable 
Isabella alone. 

For the poor lady, failing to make any impression upon 
Glen, felt a kind of gentle satisfaction in administering to 
his pleasure. She saw how eager the young officer and 
her niece were to meet, and this, like a pale beam of re- 
flected light, tended to brighten her own sad life, so that 
she smiled and sighed and palpitated gently, telling herself, 
as her trembling hand wandered about the plaits of her old- 
fashioned dress, that it was very sweet to see others happy. 

So great was her enjoyment that often and often, as Glen 
and Marie, with Ruth for companion, strolled up ^nd 
down, poor Isabella Dymcox would take her place upon 
one of the seats, saying that she was rather tired, and shed 
a few sad tears, which trickled down her withered cheeks, 
almost unknown to the dreaming author of their being. 

It came upon Glen like a surprise on the night of Mrs. 
Elbraham’s grandest “ at home ” to find that Marie was 
there ; and after being welcomed by his host and hostess, 
the first very warmly, and the second with a searching 
look in her eyes, a strange sense of pleasure came over 
him on seeing Marie standing near, looking, it seemed to 
him, more handsome than he had ever seen her look before. 

There was a dreamy, anxious look in her eyes as they 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


261 

encountered his, and her gloved hand certainly conveyed 
a trembling, tender pressure when he first shook hands, so 
that when at last he left her side, he began asking himself 
whether it was possible that he had been making a mistake, 
and casting away a living substance for a false deluding 
shadow. 

“ Nonsense ! ” he said impatiently, as the hot blood 
seemed to rush through his veins. “ I can’t be so frivolous. 
Then, with a half-laugh, “ Broken hearts are not so easily 
mended, and Marie can only feel a sort of pity and con- 
tempt for a fellow who preferred her sister.” 

But somehow in the course of the evening his eyes en- 
countered Marie’s from time to time, and, as far as he could 
judge, there was neither pity nor contempt in them, but a 
genuine look of tender regard which took him again and 
again to her side. 

Yes ; he felt before he came that he liked Marie, and 
that it was quite possible for a nearer tie than liking to 
grow up between them in the course of time, but this even- 
ing a veil of denseness seemed to have fallen from his eyes, 
and he read a score of looks and ways in quite a new light. 

He hesitated for a while when once or twice he found 
himself near Clotilde, who seemed to affect his society a 
good deal that evening, and almost imperiously summoned 
him with a look to her side. 

He went almost gladly, for there was a new sense of joy 
in his breast. He felt that he was triumphing over the 
young wife, and yet it was the pitying triumph of a great 
conqueror who could afford to be merciful ; and this feel- 
ing grew as he glanced at the splendidly-attired, handsome 
woman ablaze with diamonds, and then at her coarse, com- 
mon-looking elderly husband, who, with his round head 
down between his shoulders, kept bustling about among 
his guests, like a society showman displaying the beauty 
of the bejewelled woman he had placed in a gilded cage. 

“ I can afford to be merciful now,” thought Glen. 
“ Good heavens ! what a blind fool I have been ! Why, 
she is worth a thousand Clotildes, and I was a fool not to 
see her superiority before ! ” 

He paused just then to ask himself whether he were not 
still blind and foolish with conceit, for why should Marie 
care for him ? But just then his eyes caught hers, and an 
electric glance made his pulse throb and hopes run high, 


262 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


as he told himself that it was no conceit upon his part, but 
the truth, and that after all he had not really loved Clotilde. 

“ No, my dear madam,” he said to himself ; “ it was a 
fancy such as a weak man like your humble servant is 
prone to indulge in. Yes,” he continued, and there was a 
faint smile on his lip as he caught sight of Clotilde just then 
watching him ; “ I thank my stars that I escaped your 
wiles. You are as handsome a woman as I ever met, and 
I certainly thought I loved you, but, by Jove, what an 
escape I have had ? ” 

Glen’s thoughts were in his eyes, upon which Clotilde’s 
were fixed, but she did not interpret them aright ; not even 
when he gazed at her almost mockingly, as if asking her if 
she were satisfied with her choice, to which he bade her 
welcome. 

“ By Jove, what will Dick say ? ” thought Glen, as he 
saw the little fellow cross to Marie. “Poor boy ! Well, 
he will have to get over it, just as he has got over a score 
of other tender passions. And I thought he said he was in 
too much trouble about his sisters to think of matrimony 
for himself.” 

The rooms grew more crowded, and Glen longed to cross 
to Marie’s side, but somehow he was always prevented, 
save for one five minutes, when Clotilde was by the entrance 
receiving some new arrivals. Those five minutes, though, 
were five intervals of joy during which very little was said, 
but that little was enough to endorse most fully without a 
positive declaration the ideas that had so lately begun to 
unfold. 

The evening wore rapidly on. Marie was standing by 
the piano talking to little Dick Millet, and her eyes met 
those of Glen gazing at her across the room. 

He was about to answer the summons they seemed to 
convey, when Lord Henry Moorpark, looking exceed- 
ingly old and yellow by the light of the chandeliers, but 
gentlemanly and courtly as ever, rose from his seat and 
crossed to where Marie stood, entering into conversation, 
as in his sad and deferential way he seemed to have set 
himself to hover about in the presence of the woman he 
loved. 

“ A very, very bright and pleasant party, my child,” he 
said tenderly. “ I hope you are enjoying it.” 

“ Oh, so much ! ” cried Marie, darting a grateful look in 
his eyes. For it was so noble and good of him, she told 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


263 


herself, and she felt that she quite loved the tender-hearted 
old nobleman for the generous way in which he had seemed 
to sink his lover’s love in that of a guardian for a child. 

“ Yes, it is bright and pleasant,” continued Lord Henry ; 
“ but I feel very much out of place here, and as if I ought to 
be quietly sipping my glass of port at my club. How noble 
your sister looks, and how happy ! ” 

“ Noble, indeed ! ” said Marie eagerly. “She is very 
handsome, and I hope she is happy.” 

“ Indeed, I hope so too, my child; but here comes some 
one else to take my place.” 

For as he was speaking, Glen, who felt that if he did not 
make an effort he would have no further speech with Marie 
that night, was coming to her side, but only to be captured 
and carried off in another direction. 

“ Then I need not go yet,” said Lord Henry, who was 
watching the little comedy through his half-closed eyes, 
“ unless I go and relieve guard, and set Captain Glen at 
liberty.” 

“ Oh, no, no ! ” whispered Marie, whose face betrayed 
her mortification. “ It would look so particular. — Clotilde 
saw him coming to me,” she added to herself, “ and it was 
done in spite.” 

“ Perhaps it would,” said Lord Henry quietly. “ I like 
Captain Glen. He is very manly and handsome. The 
beau ideal, to me, of a soldier. I must know more of him, 
and of his amusing little friend yonder, who is pointing his 
moustaches and looking daggers in my direction. He is 
another admirer of yours, is he not, Marie ? ” 

“ Oh, poor boy : it is ridiculous ! ” exclaimed Marie, half 
scornfully. “ There is something very likeable about him, 
too, except when he is in his foolish fit.” 

“ His foolish fit?” said Lord Henry inquiringly. 

“ Yes, and tries to talk nonsense. I was compelled to 
dismiss him, and forbid his coming near me unless he could 
talk sensibly.” 

Fresh announcements were made from time to time, and 
then a servant approached Clotilde, who immediately began 
to pair off her guests for the supper. 

“ Take in Marie, dear Lord Henry,” she said as she came 
to where they were standing, and soon after, in passing, she 
said softly to Glen, “ I shall reserve myself for you.” 

Glen bowed, and waited patiently as the guests went 
down to the banquet spread in a large marquee set up in 


264 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


the garden, where beneath the red and white striped awn- 
ings the brilliant swinging gasaliers turned the glass and 
lustrous plate upon the long tables into a blaze of scintil- 
lations, which illumined with fresh tints the abundant 
flowers. 

Elbraham had given Edgington and Bunter orders to 
“ do the thing handsome,” and they had unmistakably 
carried out his wishes, even to his own satisfaction ; while, 
to give an additional charm to the supper, the strains of an 
excellent band, concealed behind a great bank of flowers 
and plants of the gayest foliage, suddenly began to float 
through the great marquee. 

“ It is like a scene in fairyland,” said Clotilde, as Glen 
took his seat beside her, and after she had glanced down 
the table to see that the little squat figure of Elbraham was 
hidden from her gaze by a line of epergnes and jardinieres. 

“Yes, it is magnificent,” replied Glen gravely and with 
his eyes fixed upon Marie, seated some little distance 
below them in company with Lord Henry Moorpark, the 
former gazing at him in a half-reproachful way. 

“ I made Elbraham invite you,” whispered Clotilde, sip- 
ping the champagne that had just been poured into her 
glass. 

“ Indeed ! ” 

“ Yes ; of course I shall have all my old friends here as 
much as I please.” 

“ I suppose so,” said Glen rather dreamily. “ Of course, 
you are very happy ? ” 

She darted a quick look at him, one that he did not meet, 
for he bent over his plate and appeared to be busy with 
his supper. 

“ How dare you say that to me ! ” she said in a low 
voice. “ Oh, it is too cruel — and from you ! ” 

Glen shuddered, for he half expected that his hostess’ 
words would be heard. 

“ I beg pardon,” he said hastily. “ I will take more 
care.” 

“ No, no,” she said, in the same deep, earnest tones ; 
“ scold me, say cutting, contemptuous things to me. I am 
a wretched creature, and deserve all.” 

Glen seized and emptied his champagne-glass at a draught, 
and as he set it down he glanced towards the opening in 
the marquee, as if seeking a way to escape. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


265 


An awkward pause followed, and, judging that his com- 
panion was self-angry at her slip of words, Glen was mag- 
nanimous enough to try and pass them over, changing the 
conversation, or rather trying, by a dexterous movement, 
to draw it into another channel. 

“ Where did you go ? ” he asked. 

“ When ? During my wedding trip ? ” she asked, with a 
curious tone of bitterness in her voice. 

It was a badly-planned question, Glen felt, but he must 
go on with it now. 

“ Yes. Paris, of course ? ” 

“ Oh yes, we went to Paris and Berlin, and then through 
Switzerland, I believe ; but it was all one miserable dream.” 

She had spoken almost loudly, and the blood mounted 
to the young officer’s cheeks as he again wondered whether 
her words had been heard. But he need not have been 
uneasy, for those nearest were intent upon their plates or 
upon each other. 

“You are very angry with me,” said Clotilde suddenly ; 
and for a moment he caught her eye, and asked himself 
directly after whether Marie had seen that glance, which 
she had, and suffered a raging pang. 

“Angry? No,” said Glen lightly, “why should I be 
angry, Mrs. Elbraham ? Surely a lady has a right to make 
her own choice. I was a competitor; and an unfortunate 
one.” 

“ Do you think you were unfortunate? ” asked Clotilde 
eagerly. 

“ As unfortunate as you were favored ; why, my dear 
Mrs. Elbraham, you are here the mistress of a palace. Had 
1 had my way, you would have been condemned to share 
some shabby barrack-lodging. Hence I congratulate you.” 

“ Ah ! ” 

Glen’s face flushed more and more. It might have been 
from the long-drawn, half-despairing sigh on his left ; or the 
champagne, of which he pretty freely partook in his excite- 
ment, might have been answerable for his heightened color, 
but certainly he did not go the way to diminish it, for he 
drained the glass at his side again and again, dashing off 
into a hurried conversation and talking brightly and well, 
till he heard a fresh sigh upon his left, and encountered 
another glance from* his hostess’ large dark eyes — a look 
full of reproach and appeal. 


266 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


This time Glen smiled. The ’.vine was working, and he 
viewed matters from another point of view. 

Throwing off, then, the consciousness that had troubled 
him, he laughed and chatter with her till his words or the 
wine brought a warm flush into her creamy skin, and again 
and again he received a languishing look from the large 
dark eyes — a look that would have made some men turn 
giddy, but which only made Glen smile. 

The party at last arose and began to file back into the 
brilliantly-lit saloons, the band having now been stationed 
in the flower-filled hall, and an improvised dance com- 
menced, a couple beginning to turn to the strains of one of 
Gungl’s waltzes, and a dozen more following suit, agitating 
the perfumed air, and filling it with the scintillations of 
jewels. 

They passed from the great marquee into the hall, the 
strains of the waltz making Glen long to go to Marie and 
ask her to be his partner for that dance. 

He was thinking this when he was brought back to him- 
self by the low, sweet voice of Clotilde. 

“ You are distrait ,” she said half reproachfully. 

“ Yes. I was thinking of the music, *’ he said. “ I want 
a waltz.” 

“ No, no,” she said hurriedly ; and she pressed his arm, 
“ I must not dance to-night. Take me in this way.” 

She pointed to a door and they passed through into the 
great conservatory, softly lit up by tinted globes placed 
amidst the flowers and foliage of the rich exotics that filled 
the place. There was a delicious calm there, and the air 
was fragrant with the cloying scents of flowers ; musical 
with the tinkle of falling water as a jet flashed in many- 
tinted drops and sparkled back, into a fern-hung basin ; 
while as if from a distance came the softened strains of the 
voluptuous waltz. 

It was a place and a time to stir the pulses of an 
anchorite, and yet Glen hardly seemed to heed the beauti- 
ful woman who hung heavily and more heavily upon his 
arm, till he said suddenly — 

“ Is not this the way ? ” 

“ No, along here ; let us go through this door.” 

“This door” was one at quite the end, leading into a 
kind of boudoir ; but ere they reached it, and as they were 
nearly hidden by the rich leaves and flowers, Clotilde 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


267 


turned to her companion with a low, piteous sigh — gazing 
wildly in his eyes. “ Oh, Marcus, why did I marry that 
man ? ” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 
glen’s defender. 

Marcus Glen could hardly recall exactly what happened 
upon that unlucky night ; but Clotilde’s words rang still in 
his ears, and even as they seemed to throb in his brain, 
there was a burst of light that seemed to cut the semi-dark- 
ness where they stood — the boudoir doors being thrown 
open — and with the light came a burst of conversation and 
music from the inner rooms. 

Those sounds seemed to be mingled with the furious 
oath uttered by Elbraham, who was upon the step with 
Lord Henry Moorpark, and Marie close behind. 

It was like some situation in a comedy drama, and before 
he could recover from his surprise he felt a sharp blow 
across his face, and a tiny jet of blood spurting from the 
puncture made by the point of a brilliant where it had 
entered his temple. 

“ How dare you ! Elbraham ! Husband ! Protect me 
from this man.” 

“ Protect you? By G I will,” roared the financier, 

throwing his arm round his wife’s waist, whilst, flushed 
and angry, she began to sob. 

“ That man — that wicked man ! Oh, it is shameful !” 

“ Look here, Moorpark,” cried Elbraham savagely, as 
Clo tilde, after gazing furiously at Glen, hid her face upon 

her husband’s shoulder, “you are a witness. By G 

I’ll have an action against him — I’ll have him in the 
Divorce Court. I’ll ” 

“ Hush, hush, my good sir!” whispered Lord Henry, 
who looked for the moment horror-stricken, but recovered 
directly sufficiently to close the door leading into the great 
conservatory. 

“ But I’ll — but I’ll ” cried Elbraham, foaming at the 

mouth with rage and jealousy. 


268 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“Hush, sir, pray : for your wife and her sister’s sake,” 
said Lord Henry, with dignity. 

“ But,” panted Eibraham, struggling to speak, and shak- 
ing his fist at Glen, who stood there biting his lip and 
frowning. 

Silence, sir ! ” cried Lord Henry with authority ; “ recol- 
lect you are a gentleman. Captain Glen, I beg and desire 
that you leave this house at once.” 

“ Gentlemen ! ” exclaimed Glen, flushing with excite- 
ment ; and the words of explanation were upon his lips, 
but he stopped short and took a step as if to go, but 
turned back. “ Look here, Lord Henry,” he said. 

Then he stopped short, choking, sickened with disgust. 
He could not — he would not speak. 

“ You had better leave at once, Captain Glen,” said 
Lord Henry haughtily. “ There must be no scandal here. 
You have insulted ” 

“ Insulted !” panted Eibraham ; “ by G , sir ” 

“ Mr. Eibraham, for your own and your lady’s sake be 
silent and calm yourself, or the guests will learn what has 
occurred. If you demand satisfaction afterwards, sir, you 
can do so, though duels are out of fashion.” 

“ Satisfaction ! ” cried Eibraham. “ By G I’ll have 

heavy damages — heavy damages ! ” he reiterated, with the 
foggy notion still in his brain that this was a case in which 
he could proceed against Glen in the Divorce Court. 

“ We will discuss that afterwards, sir,” said Lord Henry 
coldly. “ Mrs. Eibraham, there are some of your guests 
approaching. Marie, my child, lead your sister into the 
next room ; she has been a little faint. Eibraham, recol- 
lect yourself.” 

“ All right, my lord ; I’m calm enough. But let this 
blackguard go at once.” 

Glen started, and he was turning furiously upon the 
financier, when he saw Marie slowly approaching her sister 
with a look almost of loathing in her countenance, and he 
took a couple of steps towards her. 

“ Marie, for heaven’s sake hear me ! ” he whispered ; but 
even as he spoke he saw Clotilde turn and glare at him 
with so fierce a look that he was again silenced. 

Then Lord Henry threw open the door, the strains of 
music and the brilliant light flashed into the conservatory, 
and Clotilde seemed to recover herself, and laid her hand 
upon her husband’s arm. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


269 


“ Take me away,” she said hoarsely ; but, seeing that 
Marie did not move, she restrained her lord, whose face 
was just turning back from purple to red, and seemed to 
be waiting for her sister to leave. 

“Will you take me back into the drawing-room, Lord 
Henry ? ” said a voice then that sounded quite strange to 
all present, and mastering her emotion, but looking deadly 
pale, Marie suffered Lord Henry to lead her away without 
one glance at Glen, who stood there feeling as if a hand 
were constricting his throat. 

The next moment E»braham favored him with a melo- 
dramatic scowl, and marched out with Clotilde’s white arm 
resting, laden with glittering bracelets, upon his black coat- 
sleeve, and her face fixed, as if of marble, as she gazed 
straight before her. 

“ He will not betray me,” she thought to herself, “and 
he will forgive me the next time we meet.” 

She might have altered her opinion if she had heard his 
words, though perhaps they would have made her feel more 
satisfied as regarded her own position. 

“Curse the woman for a Jezebel ! ” cried Glen between 
his teeth, as he clutched a handful of the rich leafage of a 
palm and crushed it in his fingers. “ Was ever poor wretch 
meshed before in such a net? If ever I forgive her this 
• Well, what is it ? ” 

“Alone !” cried Dick. “ I thought I saw Marie come 
in here while I was dancing.” 

“Yes,” said Glen, trying to crush down his emotion; 
“ she did come here, and she is gone ” 

“ For a tete-a-tete. Curse it all, Glen ! you are too bad. 
Have some honesty in you ! ” 

“ Hold your tongue ! ” said Glen, bringing his hand 
down fiercely upon the boy’s shoulder, which he clutched 
with so tremendous a grip that the lad winced and uttered 
a cry of pain. “ Don’t speak to me. Take me back.” 

“ Are you ill ? What is the matter ? There’s blood on 
your face. Hang it all ! you hurt me. What has been 
wrong ? Has Marie refused you ? ” 

“ Will you be silent ? ” 

“ No,” said the boy with spirit ; “ I will know. I saw 
Marie come in here. What has happened? Have you 
been playing some ” 


270 


A DOUBLE KNOT \ 


“ Rehearsing only ! ” cried Glen, with a forced laugh. 

“ Rehearsing ! Are they going to have amateur the- 
atricals ? ” 

“ No, no : real — a social comedy,” cried Glen. 

a A social comedy ! I say, old man, haven’t you had too 
much champagne ? But are they going to act romething? 
I should like to be in it. What is the piece? ” 

“ The scapegoat ! ” cried Glen, with a laugh ; “ and I 
play the goat.” 

“ Look here, old man, I’ll see you into a cab. Let’s get 
out this way. I’ve a couple more dances I must have before 
I go. I wouldn’t go back into the drawing-room if I were 
you. Come along.” 

With his senses seeming to reel, Glen took the arm offered 
to him, and allowed himself to be led out into the hall, Dick 
helping him on with his coat and seeing him in a hansom 
before returning to the drawing-room, where the band was 
playing another waltz. 

He intended to find Marie and secure her for a partner ; 
but the dance was nearly ended before he found her, look- 
ing, as he thought, more beautiful than ever, but very 
strange, standing in a doorway with Lord Henry, who was 
holding her hand. 

Something seemed to check the boy, as a pang of jealousy 
shot through his fervent young heart. He could not hear 
what was said, but stood still in mute rage as Lord Henry 
said : 

“ Indeed, yes, my dear child ; everything. There shall 
be no hostility. Fighting is a thing of the past. Take my 
word for it and be at rest.” 

“ Thank you, Lord Henry, thank you,” she said, almost 
passionately. “ Good-night. I will go to my room now ; 
I can bear no more.” 

“ God bless you, my child. It must be hard to bear, 
but you are noble and good and true enough to master this 
bitterness. I would I could bear it for your sake. Good- 
night.” 

“Good-night,” she said warmly. 

“ And you will try to forget it all.” 

“ I have forgotten it,” she said, flushing and drawing 
herself up proudly. “ It was one of my mistakes.” 

She looked full in his eyes as she spoke, and then drew 
her hand from his, and he stood watching her cross the 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


271 


hall and ascend the staircase till she reached the first land- 
ing, where she turned and looked down at him for a 
moment before passing out of his sight. 

Lord Henry Moorpark stood with his eyes half closed, 
thinking of the bright vision that had just glided from his 
sight ; and his thoughts must have been pleasant, for he 
smiled once, and stood opening and shutting his crush hat 
till, becoming aware that someone was near, he raised his 
eyes, and saw Dick pointing his tiny moustache. 

“ Ah,” he said, smiling ; “ there is music yonder, and 
pretty feet and bright eyes are asking for partners. Why 
tarryeth the little son of Mars ? ” 

“ Look here ! ” cried the boy fiercely ; “ if you were a 
man of my years —oh, this is unbearable !'” he cried, and 
he hurried away. 

“ Poor boy ! ” said Lord Henry softly ; “ and I am spoil- 
ing his happy dream. Ah, well, it was one from which he 

was bound to be rudely awakened, and Marie ” He 

paused, and his eyes half closed. Then he said the name 
softly to himself : “ Marie, Marie. Poor child! she looked 
heartbroken. Am I a doting old fool to ask myself this 
question — shall I win her yet ? ” 

It would be hard to say who suffered most in the sleep- 
less night which followed, during which Glen paced his 
bedroom till day, the same daybreak that found Marie, 
wakeful and feverish, turning upon her weary couch. 

That morning a note came for her. Elbraham received 
it and took it to Clotiide. 

“ It is from that wretch,” she cried hotly ; “ burn it.” 
Elbraham did so without a moment’s hesitation, and the 
ashes were still sparkling on the hearth when Marie en- 
tered the drawing-room dressed as if for a journey. 

“ Why, Rie ! ” exclaimed her sister, as Elbraham 
recalled the past night’s scene and felt uncomfortable. 

“ I am going back to Hampton,” said Marie quietly and 
without heeding her sister’s extended hands ; and on reach- 
ing home the honorable sisters were loud in their questions 
and full of surprise to see her back, but Marie was reticent. 
She was not quite well ; she was tired with the effects of 
the party ; and she did not think Clotiide wished her to 
stay longer. 

“ But Clotiide must give way in such cases. It is her 
duty to study her sister now that she is well married. 


272 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


For the first time in her life Marie saw herself as she was, 
and at night, when the cousins were alone, and Ruth had 
been helping her to undress, the latter was startled into a 
belief that Marie was ill and delirious, for soon after she 
had dropped into her usual calm and peaceful sleep she was 
awakened by her cousin, looking strange and pale in her long 
white robe and with her black dishevelled hair about her 
shoulders. 

“Are you ill, dear? ” cried Ruth, starting up. 

“ Yes, so ill — so ill,” moaned Marie ; and Ruth clasped 
her affectionately in her arms, to find her eyes wet with 
tears, and her hands like ice. 

“What is it?” whispered Ruth ; “ let me call aunts.” 

“ No, no, let me stay here ; lie down again, Ruthy, I 
want to talk to you.” 

“ But you are ill, dear,” cried Ruth. 

“ Only in mind, Ruthy. There, lie still, hold my hands 
and let me lay my head by yours ; I want to talk.” 

To Ruth’s surprise, Marie sank upon her knees by the 
bedside, clasped her in her arms, and laid her cheek upon 
the pillow. 

There,” continued Marie, “ I can talk to you now ; '* 
and to the wondering girl’s astonishment, she sobbed hys- 
terically, asking for her sympathy and love. “ For I have 
grown to hate myself, Ruth — to be ashamed of what I am. 
I’d give the world to be like you.” 

“ Oh, Marie, Marie,” sobbed Ruth, “ pray, pray don’t 
speak of yourself like that ! I have tried so hard to love 
Clotilde, but she has been cruel to me, I never could ; but 
you — you have always been kind, and I do love you. You 
always took my part.” 

“So that I might be a tyrant to you myself, you foolish 
child,” said Marie bitterly. “ Oh, Ruth, Ruth, Ruth ! if 
we had had a mother by our side I should have been a 
different woman.” 

“ There is something wrong, Marie ; I can see it in your 
face.” And she hurriedly began to dress. 

Then, and then only, did Marie give way to her feelings, 
sobbing with hysterical rage till Ruth was alarmed, and 
clung to her, begging her to be calm. 

By degrees the whole bitter story came out, Marie keep- 
ing nothing back, but pouring forth the tale of her wrong 
with all an injured woman’s passionate jealousy and des- 
pair. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


273 


She did not notice how by degrees, as she went on, Ruth 
had grown white as ashes, and had gradually loosened her 
arms from round her, edging slowly away till she stood 
there with her arms hanging listlessly at her side, and in 
this attitude she listened to the bitter, passionate declara- 
tions of her cousin. 

“ I wish I was dead ! ” cried Marie. “ I thought him so 
true and manly, and honest, and yet he could be guilty of 
so cruel, so foul a wrong ; and oh, Ruth, Ruth ! I loved 
with all my heart — loved him as I hate and despise him 
now.” 

She started and looked wonderingly at her cousin, and 
asked herself whether this was the gentle, yielding girl who 
had been her and her sister’s butt and victim these many 
years, for as she finished Ruth’s ashy face became suffused 
with anger. 

“ It is false ! It is a cruel lie ! ” 

“ It is true, you foolish child ! ” retorted Marie angrily. 

“ I tell you it is false ! ” cried Ruth. *•' Captain Glen is 
too true and noble to be so wicked as you say. I will not 
believe it. I do not care ; I would not believe it unless he 
stood here and owned to it himself. I know it is cruel and 
wicked to say so, but it is Clotilde who is to blame. Marcus 
Glen loves you, and he would not do you such a wrong.” 

“ You are too young and innocent, Ruth,” said Marie 
coldly. “ Good-night. It is only the wakening from ano- 
ther dream.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE REWARD OF PERSEVERANCE. 

Paul Montaigne made Ruth shudder with a look, and 
told her aunts that they had only to wait, for Lord Henry 
would again propose. 

He was right. 

“ If your aunts did not object, Marie, it is a delicious 
evening fora stroll round the Gardens,” said Lord Henry 
Moorpark, as they stood in the drawing-room looking at 
the black shadow cast by the full moon across the little 
court where the jets of water gurgled and plashed, and the 

18 


274 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


few gold fish sailed round and round, gaping and staring 
with their protuberant eyes like so many Elbrahams run- 
ning their mill-horse round in the search for wealth. 

“ I don’t think I should object, sister, if Marie would 
like to go,” said the Honorable Philippa. 

“ I do not think I should mind, sister,” said the Honor- 
able Isabella. “ And besides, Joseph might walk behind 
them as he does when we go for a walk.” 

“Joseph will be busy,” said the Honorable Philippa 
tartly. “ Ruth dear, would you like to accompany your 
cousin ? ” 

“ If you would excuse me, aunt, I should prefer to stay,” 
said Ruth humbly, and with a lively recollection of the 
snubbing she had once received for eagerly embracing a 
similar offer. v 

“ Would dear Lord Henry mind taking Marie un- 
accompanied by anyone else?” said the Honorable Phi- 
lippa ; and Lord Henry said he should only be too 
charmed to take her alone. 

Marie had been sitting with a half-contemptuous smile 
upon her lip, but as Lord Henry turned to her she rose 
and left the room, to return shortly with a large scarf 
thrown over her head and round her neck. 

The old man gazed wistfully at the beautiful figure, and 
uttered a low sigh. Then, rising, the couple left the room, 
Lord Henry saying that they would not be long ; and des- 
cending, they crossed the court and made their way into 
the gardens, confining themselves first to the broader walks, 
talking of the beauty of the night, the lovely effects of light 
and shadow in the formaj old place whose closely-clipped 
angularity was softened by the night. 

Marie said but little, listening in a quiet, contented frame 
of mind while Lord Henry made comparisons between the 
gardens and park and those of Versailles, Fontainebleau, 
and other places he had visited abroad. 

“You would like to travel, would you not ?”* he said, 
looking at her inquiringly. 

“ I used to think it would be one of the greatest joys of 
existence,” she replied ; “ but somehow of late I have felt 
content to stay as I am.” 

“ Always?” he said sadly. 

“ Yes. I don’t know. — Lord Henry,” she whispered 
in a quick, agitated manner, “ take me away from here. 
Let us go back.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


275 


He was startled by her energy, and for the first time 
saw that they were not alone, for there in the bright moon- 
light were a couple of officers sauntering along, evidently 
in ignorance of the proximity of Lord Henry and his com- 
panion. 

“ Do you wish Captain Glen to see you, Marie ? ” said 
Lord Henry, with a shade of bitterness in his voice. 

“ Why do you ask me that ? ” she retorted. 

“You see,” he replied coldly, “we are in the shadow, 
and if we remain here they will pass on without noticing 
11s.” 

“ Let us stay,” she said ; and they remained upon the 
velvet turf beneath a row of limes whose shadow was per- 
fectly black ; and as they rested silent and watchful there, 
they saw the two young men pass slowly in the silvery 
moonlight, talking carelessly till they were out of sight. 

“ Youth against age,” mused Lord Henry, as he stood 
gazing after the young officers. “ Why am I so weak as 
to cling to this silly sentiment ? At my time of life I should 
be a wiser man. I visit, I talk, I bring her presents, I 
pour before her all that is rich in an old man’s love, and 
she is kind and gentle, but unmoved. Then comes youth, 
and his presence even at a distance works a change in her 
such as I have never seen when I have tried my best to 
win her regard. Ah well ! I should respect her the more 
for her honesty, Our hearts are not our own, and poor 
child ! she loves him still.” 

He started from his reverie to see that Marie was stand- 
ing beside him, gazing along the broad path at whose end 
the officers had disappeared. 

“ Marie,” he said softly ; and he took her hand, but she 
did not move, and the hand was very cold. 

“ Marie ” he said again ; and site started back into the 
present. 

“ Lord Henry ! ” she faltered. 

“ We are alone here, my child, and I can speak to you 
plainly. You know how long and well I have loved you. 
Let me tell you now that the old man’s love is stronger 
and truer than ever, but it is blended with something 
better, and is richer than it was before. Marie, iny child, 

I would give all I possess — yes, even the last few years of 
my life — to see you happy. Shall I try to make your (ife 
a happy one ? ” 


27C 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


She looked at him calmly, and laid her other hand upon 
his as he clasped her right. 

“ Yes, Lord Henry,” she said, “ if you will.” 

“ I will, my child,” he said earnestly. “ God giving me 
str 11 r M1 J 11 T n to make you happy.” 



“ The scene on that dreadful night, my child, has never 
been cleared up. You have never fairly heard all. You 
love Captain Glen still, and he may have a very good 
defence for what we unfortunately saw. Shall I fetch him 
back to you now ? I will be as your father, as his judge ; 
and if I say he can give a satisfactory explanation, you 
shall forgive him.” 

Marie had misunderstood him at first, but now his words 
were clear, and she started from him in passionate anger. 

“See him — speak to him — listen to his perjuries again 
— never ! ” she cried. “ Take me home. No words of his 
could ever undo the past.” 

“ Be calm, my child,” he whispered, “ and listen. This 
young heart beats for him still. Let me fetch him. There 
may be grounds for forgiveness even now.” 

“ Lord Henry ! ” 

“Appearances are deceitful,” he said, interrupting her. 
“ Let me try to make you happy. Believe me, I have 
your welfare so at heart that I would sacrifice myself for 
your sake.” 

She grew calmer as she listened to his words, and when 
he had ended, laid her hand again in his, 

“You do not know me yet,” she said softly. “ I will 
speak out now without fear and shame. I did love him, 
Lord Henry. Heaven knows how dearly I loved him 
when he passed me over for my sister ; and when she 
treated him so heartlessly, my love for him seemed to grow 
the stronger. When he turned to me at last, I thought 
that life would be one long day of joy.” 

She paused, and Lord Henry watched her with a grow- 
ing reverence in his face, 

“ Then came that dreadful night,” she continued, “ and 
all was at an end. The old love is dead, Lord Henry, and 
what you have seen to-night was but the agitation such a 
meeting would produce. Take me home now — take me 
home.” 

“ No,” he said tenderly ; “ you are agitated, my child. 
Let us walk a little longer. Marie,” he continued, as he 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


277 


held her hand in his, and made no attempt to move, “ I 
once asked you to be an old man’s wife. I told you to- 
night how your happiness is mine. Forgive me if I ask 
you again — ask you to give me the right to protect you 
against the world, and while I remain here to devote my 
life to making yours glide happily, restfully on. Am I mad 
in asking this of you once more ? ” 

She did not answer for some moments, but when she 
did she laid her other hand in his, and suffered him to draw 
her nearer to him till her head rested upon his shoulder. 

Marie went straight back to her room and sat down to 
think, with her face buried in her hands, till she felt them 
touched, when she started up, and found her cousin gazing 
at her questioningly. She told Ruth all, the communica- 
tion almost resulting in a quarrel, for the girl had fired up 
and accused her of cruelty. 

“ You are condemning him and yourself to misery,” she 
cried, “ and I will speak. Oh, Marie, Marie ! undo all 
this ; I am sure that some day you will be sorry for it.” 

“ You foolish child,” said Marie, kissing her affection- 
ately. “ Oh, Ruthy, I wish we had known more of each 
other’s hearts. You are so good in your disposition that 
you judge the world according to your own standard.” 

“ Oh no, no, I do not ! ” cried Ruth. “ I only speak 
because I am sure Captain Glen is too good and honest a 
gentleman to behave as you have said.” 

“ Perhaps so,” said Marie coldly, as she caressed and 
smoothed Ruth’s beautiful hair. “ But you must not let 
this advocacy of yours win you too much to Captain Glen’s 
side.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” cried Ruth, flushing. 

“ I mean that he is not to be trusted, and that it would 
be a severe blow to me if I found that you had been list- 
ening to him, as might be the case, when I am not near 
to take care of and protect you,” 

“ Oh, pray, Marie 1 ” cried Ruth, with her face like 
crimson, “don’t talk like that. Oh no, no ! I could never 
think of anyone like that if he had been your lover, Marie, 
which he is.” 

“ Clotilde’s lover — my lover — your lover — any handsome 
woman’s lover. Oh ! Ruthie ! ” said Marie scornfully, “ let 
us be too womanly to give him even a second thought. 
There, it is all over. Dear Lord Henry w^s SQ tender and 


278 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


kind to me,” she continued lightly. “ He was as bad as 
you, though, at first.” 

“ How as bad as I ? ” said Ruth. 

“ He wanted to fetch that man to give place to him. 
To make me happy, he said.” 

“ There !” cried Ruth excitedly ; “ and he is right. Lord 
Henry is so wise and good, and he must know.” 

“ He is one of the best and noblest of gentlemen,” said 
Marie, throwing back her head and speaking proudly, 

“ and I’ll try to make him the truest and best of wives.” 

“ But, oh, Marie ! don't be angry with me, dear,” cried 
Ruth, clinging to her ; “ think a moment. Suppose — 
suppose you should find out afterwards that you had mis- 
judged Captain Glen.” 

“ Hush ! ” cried Marie ; and her face looked so fierce 
and stern that Ruth shrank from her. “ Never speak to 
me again like that. I tell you, it is dead now — my love 
for him is dead. You insult me by mentioning his name 
to Lord Henry’s affianced wife.” 

Ruth crept back to her to place her arms tenderly round 
her neck, and nestle in the proud woman’s breast. 

“ I do love you, Marie,” she said tenderly ; “ and I 
pray for your future. May you, dear, be very, very happy ! ” 

“I shall be,” said Marie proudly ; “ for I am to marry 
one whom I can esteem, and whom I shall try to love.” 

Ruth wept softly upon her cousin’s breast for a few 
minutes, and then started from her and wiped away her 
tears, for there were footsteps on the stairs. 

The reign of coldness was at an end, and the honorable 
sisters had their hearts set at rest by the announcement 
Lord Henry had been making to them below. 

He had sat for some time in silence, and the subject 
was too delicate for the ladies to approach. They had 
been about to summon Marie to return, but he had smiled, 
and suggested that she should be left to herself. 

Then the Honorable Philippa’s heart had sunk, so had 
the heart of the Honorable Isabella, whose mind was in a 
paradoxical state, for she longed to see and hear that 
Captain Glen was h^ppy ; and to have added to his happi- 
ness she would have given him Marie’s hand at any moment, 
but at the same tjiT^e it made her tremble, and the tears 
rose to her dim eye§ whenever she dwelt upon the possibi- 
lity of another becoming |iis wife. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


279 


A pause had followed, during which Lord Henry had rest- 
ed his elbow upon the table and his head upon his hand, and 
there, with the tears hanging on the lashes of his half-closed 
eyes, and as if in ignorance of the presence of the sisters, 
he sat thinking dreamily, and smiling softly at the vacancy 
before him in the gloomy room. 

The Honorable Philippa felt that her hopes had been 
once more dashed, and that Lord Henry had that night pro- 
posed and been refused. 

“ May I send you some tea, Lord Henry ? *’ she said 
faintly. 

“ I beg your pardon, dear Miss Philippa, dear Miss Isa- 
bella,” he cried, starting up with a sweet smile upon his 
face and the weak tears in his eyes. “ I was so overpowered 
by the enjoyment of my own selfish happiness that I could 
think of nothing else.” 

“Happiness?” faltered the Honorable Philippa; and 
her sister’s hand trembled about her waist as if she were 
busily trying to unpick the gathers of her antique poplin 
gown. 

“Yes, my dear ladies,” he said, “happiness;” and he 
took and kissed in turn their trembling hands. “ Our dear 
Marie has accepted me, and with your consent, as I am 
growing an old man fast, and time is short, we will be mar- 
ried quietly almost at once.” 

The Honorable Philippa sank back agitated a la mode. 
The Honorable Isabella sank back“feeling really faint and 
with a strange fluttering at her heart, for, like some mad 
dr^am, the idea would come that, now his suit with Marie 
was perfectly hopeless, Captain Glen might yet say sweet 
words to her. 

It was a mad dream, but it lasted for some hours. It 
lasted till after Lord Henry had bade them affectionately 
farewell, and they had gone up to the young girl’s room, 
and Marie had been kissed and blessed with prayers for 
her happiness. 

It lasted, too, until the honorable sisters had retired for 
the night ; and somehow the joyous feeling of hope that had 
been deferred so long would keep rising brighter and 
brighter in the Honorable Isabella’s breast. By the light 
of that hope she saw the manly, handsome face of Marcus 
Glen smiling upon her, as he came and told her that it was 
not too late even now, and that Ninon de l’Enclos was 
quite venerable when she loved. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


a So 

It was very pleasant, and an unwonted flush burned in 
her face — just such a flush as appeared there when she tried 
some of that peculiar white paste belonging to Lady Anna 
Maria Morton, which, applied to the cheeks, turned them 
of a peachy red. 

“ It is very foolish of me,” she murmured, in quite a 
cooing voice ; “ but I don’t know : Lady Anna Maria is 
going to be married to a young and handsome husband, 
so why should not I ? ” 

Poor little lady ! She was finishing her night toilet as 
she thought all this, and then it was time to put out the 
lights. 

There were two — an unwonted extravagance — burning, 
one on either side of the little old-fashioned toilet-glass, and 
with a smile of satisfaction she paused to look at herself 
before extinguishing the candles. 

There was but little vanity in her composition, and it 
left room for a great deal of latent affection. As she gazed 
into the old glass the extinguisher dropped from her hand ; 
she uttered a pitiful cry, and sank into a chair sobbing and 
bewailing her lost youth. 

44 No, no, no ! ” she sobbed ; “ he could never love such 
a dreadful thing as that ! ” And as she sat there the can- 
dles burned down, one to drop out at once, the other to 
flicker and dance in a ghostly way, but the Honorable Isa- 
bella heeded it not, for she was assisting at the interment 
of her love. 

“ He could never love such a one as I,” she said to her- 
self: and as she sat there in the cold and darkness, her 
thin hands pressed one upon the other, her heart seemed 
to ask her who there was for Captain Glen to love; and 
as she asked herself the question the soft, innocent face of 
Ruth rose before her, and seemed to be looking gently and 
kindly in her eyes as she dropped asleep. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


281 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE DOUBLE KNOT. 

As Gertrude Huish, wild with horror and half mad as she 
realized that there was something that she could not com- 
prehend about the man who had clasped her in his arms, 
raised her voice in a loud appeal for help, steps were heard 
upon the stairs, and there was loud knocking. 

“ Go in there ! ” was whispered hoarsely, and trembling 
with the great dread which had come upon her she escaped 
from the hands which held her, rushed through an open 
door and shut it to and locked it before she stood alone in 
the darkness, ready to swoon away. 

It was horrible ! Those rumors about John Huish 
which she had proudly refused to believe — were they, 
then, all true ? That woman had claimed him for her hus- 
band, and what, then, was she ? And then his manner — 
the coming of the police — his conduct to her ! 

“ God help me!" she half cried. “It is not he — it 
cannot be ! What is to become of me ? What shall I do ? ” 

Yes ; that was it. That explained the feeling of loathing 
she had felt when he clasped her in his arms. At other 
times her arms had stolen round his neck, her lips had 
clung to his ; while now this man seemed half mad, his 
breath reeked of spirits and he horrified her. Was it really, 
then, all true — that her husband had a double life, or was 
this some horror in his place ? 

Her position was maddening, and she felt at times that 
her reason must give way as, with hands extended, she felt 
her way in the intense darkness about the little bedroom 
till her hands rested upon the second door, which, like the 
first, was fast. 

She remembered now that he had entered the room, 
locked the door, and removed the key, so that she was a 
prisoner in the utter darkness, where at last she threw her- 
self upon her knees and prayed for help and guidance in 
her sore straight. 


282 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


She rose up at last strengthened and calmer, feeling that 
she must escape and get back home at any cost. No, to 
Uncle Robert, who would help her, for she dared not, after 
leaving home as she did, face Lady Millet now. 

Then, as she pressed her head with her hands, she felt 
confused and strange. Her brain swam, and she told her- 
self that she must not go. 

One o’clock — two o’clock had struck, and still she sat 
there in the darkness, with her brain growing more and 
more bewildered ; and then she started to her feet and a 
cry rose to her lips, for there were footsteps without, 
and they passed the door and entered the next room. 

Then as she stood listening to the heavy beating of her 
heart there was the harsh scratching noise made by a 
match, and a gleam of light shone beneath the door. 

What should she do? He was coming again, and an 
insane desire came upon her to seek for the window and 
cast herself out — anything to avoid meeting him now. 

At last when the mental aeony of suspense was more 
than she could bear longer, the door was suddenly opened, 
the light shone in, and a low hoarse cry of horror subsided 
into a wail of relief, for there stood the same woman, pale, 
even ghastly, holding a candle above her head, and with a 
dull, angry look upon her countenance as she entered the 
room. 

“ Well,” she said harshly, “ are you satisfied?” 

“ I don’t understand you,” said Gertrude eagerly, as she 
crept towards her ; “ but you are a woman. Pray, pray 
help me to get away from this dreadful place. For indeed 
it is dreadful to me,” continued Gertrude, catching at the 
woman’s hand, but only for her to snatch it angrily away. 

“ You don’t know it as I do,” she said, “ or you would 
call it a dreadful place. Don’t touch me : I hate you ! ” 

“ No, no, I never injured you ! ” cried Gertrude piteous- 
ly. “ Oh, as you are a woman, help me ! Here, look, I 
will reward you. Take this.” 

She hastily detached her watch and chain, and held them 
out. 

“ Pah ! ” exclaimed the woman, what are they to me ? 
I’ve seen him and them bring scores of them, and rich 
jewels, diamonds and pearls — I’m sick of them ; and do 
you think I would take that from you?” 

“ Why not?” cried Gertrude. “ Oh, have you no pity 
for me ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


283 


“ Pity ? Pity for you ! Why, are you not his wife? ” 

“ Yes, yes, yes, but you cannot understand. I cannot 
explain. Help me to get away from here. I must go — to 
my friends.” 

“Go? To your friends?” said the woman, looking 
perplexed. “ What, have you quarreled already ? ” 

“ Oh, do notask me — I cannot tell you,” cried Gertrude 
piteously ; “ only help me to escape from here, and I will 
pray for you to my dying day.” 

“ What good’s that ? ” said the woman mockingly. “ Pm 
so bad that no one could pray me good. I’m a curse and 
a misery, and everything that’s bad. Pray, indeed ! I’ve 
prayed hundreds of times that I might die, but it’s no 
good.” 

“Have you no heart — no feeling?” cried Gertrude, 
going down upon her knees. 

“ Not a bit,” said the woman bitterly. “They crushed 
one and hardened the other till it all died.” 

“ Let me pass you then ! ” cried Gertrude angrily. “ I 
will not stay.” 

“ If I let you pass, you could not getaway. The doors 
are locked below, and you could not find the keys. You 
don’t want to go.” 

“ What can I say — how am I to tell you that I would give 
the world to get away from here ? ” cried Gertrude. “ Oh, 
for Heaven’s sake save me before he comes again ! ” 

“ He will not come again. He is downstairs drunk. He 
is always either drunk or mad. And so you are the new 
Mrs. John Huish ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” cried Gertrude ; and then wildly, “ Tell 
me, it is not true ? You — you — cannot be his wife !” 

“ The parson said I was when we were married — Mrs. 
Frank Riversley.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Gertrude joyously. 

“Sometimes,” continued the woman, as if she enjoyed 
torturing her rival ; “ lately he has called himself John Huish 
since he has neglected me so much to go to clubs and 
chambers.” 

“ Oh ! ” sighed Gertrude. 

“But I never complained.” 

“ I cannot bear this,” moaned Gertrude to herself ; and 
then, fighting down the emotion, she crept upon her knees 
to the- woman and clasped her hand. 


284 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


“ Let me go,” she moaned. “ Let me get away from 
here, and I will bless you. Ask anything of me you like, 
and il shall be yours, only get me away.” 

“You don’t want to go,” said the woman mockingly. 
“ It’s all a sham.” 

“ How can I prove to you that I mean it ? ” cried Ger- 
trude. 

“ I don’t know ; I only know that if I did he would kill 
me.” 

“ Oh no, no ; he dare not touch you. Come with me, 
then, and I’ll see that you are not hurt.” 

“Are you in earnest? Better not. I ought to be in bed 
now — sick almost to death. Better stay,” she said mock- 
ingly. “ This may kill me. I hope it will, and then you 
can be happy — with him ! ” 

“ N9 ! no ! no ! ” cried Gertrude wildly. “ Never again. 
I did not know. It is too dreadful ! Woman, if you hope 
for mercy at the last, help me to get away before I see that 
man again.” 

“ That man ? that man ? ” 

“ No, no,” cried Gertrude wildly. “ I cannot explain. 
It is too dreadful ! He is not my husband. He is like 
him, but he is not him. I don’t know what I am saying. 
I cannot explain it. Only for God’s sake get me away 
from here, or I shall go mad ! ” 

The woman stood gazing at her piercingly as Gertrude 
cast herself at her feet. 

“ You do mean it, then ? ” she said at last. 

“ Mean it ? Yes. I have been deceived — cheated. This 

man is Oh ! I don’t know — I don’t know,” she cried 

wildly ; “ but pray help me, and let me go ! ” 

The woman gazed down at her for a few moments longer, 
and then said huskily, “ Come ! ” 

Gertrude caught at the hand held out to her, and suffered 
herself to be led out on to the landing, and then slowly 
down the dark stairs of the old City mansion in which they 
were, till they stood in the narrow hall, where, reaching up, 
the woman thrust her hand into a niche and drew forth a 
key, and then set down and blew out the light. 

Gertrude stood trembling, and she clung to the hand 
which touched her. 

“ Afraid of the dark ? ” 

“ No, no ! But pray make haste; he may hear.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


285 


“ No. He hears nothing after he has taken so much 
brandy. He was wild with the other lodgers for interfer- 
ing ; and when he is wild he drinks till he goes to sleep, 
and when he wakes ” 

She did not finish her sentence, but led her companion 
to the door, unlocked it, and the next moment the cool 
dank air of the night was blowing upon Gertrude’s cheek, 
as she dashed out into the narrow street, flying like some 
hunted beast, in the full belief that the steps she heard were 
those of the man who could not be the husband whom she 
loved. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

BETWEEN SISTERS. 

“ I wished to do everything for the best, my child,” said 
Lord Henry Moorpark. “ I did not like the idea, but El- 
braham pressed me to come, and for your sake, as Mrs. 
E ! braham is your sister, I gave way. I wish you had 
spoken sooner. We have not dined with them since we 
have been married.” 

It was too late then, for they were in the carriage on the 
way to Palace Gardens. But the dinner-party was not to 
pass off without trouble, for after the ladies had left, and 
while Lord Henry was fighting hard with a bad cigar, sip- 
ping his coffee and listening to his brother-in-law’s boast- 
ings about the way in which the money market was rigged, 
the butler entered softly, and whispered something to Lord 
Henry, who rose on the instant. 

“Anything wrong, Moorpark? ” said Elbraham, in his 
hoarse, rough way. 

“ Only a call for me,” cried Lord Henry hastily. “ Pray 
sit still, and do not let my absence interfere with your en- 
joyment.” 

“ All right ; come back as soon as you can,” cried El- 
braham ; but by that time Lord Henry was in the hall, for 
the butler had whispered to him that her ladyship had been 
suddenly taken ill. 

To Lord Henry’s astonishment, he found Marie in the 
hall, hastily drawing a long scarf round her neck and over 
her head. 


286 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Take me home,” she whispered hoarsely, as he hurried 
to her side. 

“ My darling ! are you ill ? ” he cried. 

“ Yes. Very ill, take me home.” 

“ Had I not better send for medical help at once ? ” 

“ No, no. Home ! home ! ” she whispered, as she clung 
to his arm. 

“But the carriage, my darling? It will not be here till 
after ten.'’ 

“ Let me walk. Take a cab. Anything ; only get me 
away from this house,” she whispered imploringly ; and 
theie was that in her face which made Lord Henry send at 
once for a cab ; and it was not until they were in it, and on 
their way to their house in St. James’, that Marie seemed 
as if she could breathe. 

She had thrown herself into his arms as soon as they 
were in the cab, excitedly bidding him tell her that he 
trusted her, that she was his own wife, and ended by such 
a hysterical burst that he grew alarmed, and was about to 
bid the driver stop at the first doctor’s, when she seemed to 
divine that which he intended to do, and gradually grew 
calmer. 

Hereupon he was about to question her, but at his first 
words the symptoms from which she suffered seemed ready 
to recur, so he contented himself with holding her hands 
in his, while she lay back with her head upon his shoulder, 
every now and then uttering a piteous moan. 

The ladies had ascended to the drawing-room that even- 
ing, and as soon as they were seated alone there, Marie felt 
that she had made a mistake incoming. 

The memory of the evening of the “ at home ” came back 
very vividly, try how she would to drive it away, and. when- 
ever she glanced furtively at Clotilde, she seemed to be 
gazing not at her sister, but at the woman who had done 
her a deadly injury. 

She fought against this feeling, but it seemed to 
strengthen, especially as Clotilde kept smiling in a 
triumphant way — so it seemed to her ; and Marie shivered 
as she felt that she was beginning to hate this sister of 
hers. 

It only wanted Clotilde’s confession to seal the growing 
feud, and make Marie’s dislike grow into hate indeed. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


287 


“ How little we see of each other now, love ! ” began 
Clotilde. “ I thought, dear, that when we were married 
we should be inseparable. Is it my fault ? ” 

“ My husband is very fond of quiet,” said Marie. “ We 
go out but seldom.” 

“ Poor old gentleman !” said Clotilde mockingly. “ I 
hope you nurse him well.” 

Marie started, but she said nothing, and Clotilde went 
on : 

“ Isn’t it nice, dear, to be one’s own mistress, with plenty 
of money at one’s command, and as much jewellery as 
one likes ? Do you remember how we used to long for it 
all ? ” 

“ Yes, I remember,” replied Marie, sighing in spite of 
herself. 

“You remember? Yes, and you sigh about it. Why, 
Rie, you ought to be as merry as the day is long. Lord 
Henry is a dear old fellow. How much older, though, he 
seems than Elbraham ! I say, Rie, wouldn’t you like to 
change ? ” 

“ The conversation ? ” said Marie. “ Yes ; certainly.” 

“ No, my dear, not the conversation, but husbands. 
Poor old Rie ! I rather pity you, for Lord Henry is 
decidedly slow.” 

‘ Clotilde,” said Marie, with dignity, “ Lord Henry Moor- 
park is my dear husband and your guest. The way in 
which you are speaking of him gives me pain.” 

“ Pain ? Why, Rie, what stuff you are talking — and to 
me ! Heigho ! it seems very hard upon us that we should 
have had to marry these wretched old men, instead of such 
fellows as — say Captain Glen.” 

“ How can you speak like that, Clo ! ” cried her sister, 
flushing. “ I beg you will be silent.” 

“ Beg, then,” retorted Clotilde, with a resumption of her 
old schoolroom ways. “ Who cares ? I shall talk as I 
like.” 

“ Do you think it is respectful to your husband or your 
duty as a woman to speak of — of — that man as you do? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Clotilde carelessly. “ Why not? I 
liked Marcus Glen ever so.” 

“ Clotilde ! for heaven’s sake be silent. Think of your 
position — of what you are. Your words are terrible.” 

“ Terrible ? What, because I said I liked Marcus Glen ? 
Why, so I do. He’s a splendid fellow.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


2SS 

Marie’s eyes sought the door, but they were quite alone, 
and she glanced back at her sister with a look of disgust 
and annoyance painted upon her face in vivid colors. 

“ Oh, there’s no one to hear us, and I don’t mind what 
I say before you, Rie. You won’t go and tell tales. You 
dare not. I say dare,” she continued, with a malignantly 
spiteful look in her countenance. “ You were fond of 
Marcus Glen, weren’t you ? ” 

Marie did not reply, but sat there with an outraged look 
upon her face, and Clotilde smiled to herself, and her eyes 
glittered with malicious delight as she went on : 

“ Do you know, Rie, I have a good mind to quarrel with 
you to-night, as I have got you here.” 

“Quarrel with me? Why should you do that?” said 
Marie quietly. 

“ Oh, for a hundred reasons, my sweet sister. For one, 
because it is so long since you and I had a good scold. 
For another, because it was so underhanded of you to hold 
back when dear aunties wanted us to marry well.” 

“ Don’t be foolish, Clo 1 ” said Marie. “ Let us talk of 
something else.” 

“ Yes, we will by-and-by, my sweet sissy ; but it was 
shabby of you to let me marry my old man, and then take 
advantage of my being fast to make up to my former beau.” 

“ Can such talk as this benefit either of us ? ” said Marie, 
flushing. “ Surely it is beneath your dignity as a wife to 
speak as you do.” 

“ Dignity? Pooh ! Women who marry as we have done, 
for money, have no dignity — they have sold it.” 

“ Clotilde ! ” 

“ Well, it’s quite true, and you know it. Trash ! As if 
we either of us ever had any. It was nipped in the bud by 
our dear aunts. No, my dear Rie, we have no dignity, 
either of us. Slaves have no such commodity. We are 
only white slaves, the property of the dreadful old men 
who took a fancy to us and bought us ! ” 

“ For heaven’s sake, Clo, be silent,” cried Marie, who 
had to fight hard to keep down her agitation. “ This is 
cruel ! ” 

“Well, what if it is? Why should you not feel it as 
well as I ? You hate and despise your husband as much 
as I do mine, and though you are so quiet and so shy, Rie, 
you mean to take your revenge ; and why not ? ” 

“ I do not understand you,” exclaimed Marie. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


289 


“ Bah ! That you do, and I know it ? I am not so mad 
as to believe in there being such a thing as morality in the 
fashionable world.’’ 

“ Clotilde, I will not sit and listen to you,” cried Marie. 
“ Your words are disgraceful.” 

“ Better speak plain than be smug and smooth and 
secretive, you handsome hypocrite ! There, it won’t do, 
Rie. You may as well drop the veil before me. All this 
wonderful show of modesty and mock devotion is thrown 
away.” 

“ Are you going out of your senses ? ” said Marie 
hoarsely. 

“ Half-way,” was the reply. “ It is enough to madden 
any woman, to be sold as I was.” 

“You accepted Mr. Elbraham of your own free will,” 
said Marie indignantly, “ and it is your duty to remember 
that you are his wife.” 

“ Is it?” cried Clotilde angrily, and speaking as if she 
were fanning her temper to raging point. “ I know what 
my duty is to my slave-owner better than you can tell me, 
madam ; but, clever as you are, you did not keep out of 
the marriage mess.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ What do I mean ? ” cried Clotilde, who was excited 
with the wine she had drunk, and her desire to sting her 
sister to the quick. “ Why, you did not suppose I was 
going to sell myself for a position and let von hang back 
and marry the man I loved.” 

“The man you loved ? ” said Marie, turning very pale. 

“ Yes, the man I loved — Marcus Glen. He loved me, 
and you knew it, and hung back always, with your soft, 
cat-like ways, trying to win him from me.” 

“ It is not true,” cried Marie. 

“ Yes, it is and you know it is true. That’s why you 
refused Lord Henry at first, so that you might win Marcus, 
as you thought. Do you think I was blind? ” 

“Clotilde,” said Marie, “ this is terrible to me! Did 
you ask me here to-night to insult me? ” 

“Not I, my dear, only to congratulate you on being such 
a good, dutiful girl, and obeying our sweetly-affectionate, 
care-taking, washed-out old aunts. It is so pleasant to see 
you like I am, and well out in society. I meant that you 
should be, and so you are. Why, you are ever so much 

19 


290 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


better off than I am — Lady Henry Moorpark. I ought to 
rise and make obeisance to you, but I am too lazy. But 10 
set aside joking, you ought to be highly grateful, and kiss 
me, for what I have done.” 

“ I do not understand you,” said Marie, unconsciously 
playing with her wedding-ring. 

“ Why, I brought you to your senses, silly child ! ” 

“ Brought me to my senses ! ” said Marie, fighting down 
an intense desire to rise and leave the room. 

“To be sure, my dear; I have quite taken to dear 
aunts’ worldly ideas of what is right for girls to do. You 
know I did my duty, as they laid it out for me ; and then, 
when I saw my silly sister hang back and spend her time 
in making eyes at the penniless officer I could not afford to 
marry, I said, * This will not do. I love dear Marie too 
well to let her make a fool of herself. She shall marry 
Lord Henry Moorpark, or I’ll know the reason why.’ ” 

“You are talking folly,” said Marie huskily. 

“ Perhaps so, Rie ; but you did not marry my Marcus, 
and you did marry Lord Henry. Yes, that’s the golden 
link of your slavery, sweet sister,” she said as she saw 
Marie touch her wedding-ring ; “ but how dutiful you must 
feel ! Haven’t seen Marcus lately, have you ? ” 

Marie made no reply. 

“ You don’t believe me,” continued Clotilde maliciously. 
“It was very funny how it all turned out. Do you 
remember the night of our party ? ” 

Did she remember it ! The recollection was burned into 
her brain. 

“Poor Marcus!” continued Clotilde, “he is a great 
goose of a fellow. How astonished he looked ! ” 

Marie was white and red by turns, and the place seemed 
to swim round before her ; but she fought hard to keep her 
feelings a secret from her sister’s malicious eyes. 

“ I must do him the justice to say that he behaved very 
well on the whole.” 

“ Clotilde, you must be mad,” said Marie hoarsely. “ If 
you were in your right senses, you would not speak like 
this.” 

“ Oh yes, I would, my dear,” laughed Clotilde. “ I am 
no more mad than you are ; but I was determined that you 
should never marry Marcus Glen, and I kept you apart.” 

“ It is false,” cried Marie excitedly. “ I threw him over 
for his reckless conduct with you.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


291 


“ You threw him over because I made you, my dear,” 
saidClotilde contemptuously. “ Do you think, Rie, I was 
going to sit still here as Elbraham’s wife, and see you 
marry Marcus ! No, my dear, that I would not do.” 

Marie was like stone now, and she remained motionless, 
while Clotilde lay back in her lounge and continued her 
shameless avowals. 

“ I wanted to spite you a little, darling, in a kindly sort 
of way, and I could not have behaved better to you than 
to help you do your duty to our dear aunts, and win a rich 
husband and a title.” 

“Is this talk for some purpose? ” said Marie at last. 

“Yes, my dear, of course it is; but you must be very 
smooth-faced and quiet now, and not let the gentlemen see 
that we have been talking about our old beaux. But 
seriously, Rie, you never thought I should sit down quietly 
and let you carry off Marcus Glen ? ” 

Marie began to tremble, for a horrible suspicion had 
assailed her, one which moment by moment grew more 
strong ; while, seeing the effect of her words, Clotilde went 
on with malicious glee : 

“ It would not do at any cost, my dear, so I carried off 
poor stupid Marcus that night.” 

“ This was your doing, Clotilde,” said Marie at last. 

“To be sure it was. Poor old fellow! He behaved 
very nicely by holding his tongue and taking all the blame, 
when he was as innocent as a lamb.” 

“ Innocent? ” exclaimed Marie involuntarily. 

“ To be sure he was, my dear. Why, he was as fond of 
you as could be, only I led him into that scrape so that he 
would not be able ” 

Clotilde got no farther, for even she was startled at the 
effect of her words upon her sister, who sprang from her 
seat and caught her by the hands. 

“ Clotilde ! ” she exclaimed, hoarsely, “ this is all a lie ! 
Tell me it is all a lie, and I will forgive you.” 

“ Do as you like, only don’t squeeze diamond rings 
into my fingers. All true enough : Marcus held his 
tongue, as I tell you, like a lamb, to save my credit. 
What fools men are ! ” 

“ Then — then,” wailed Marie, “ he was true ? ” 

“ Why, my sentimental sister ! You ought to bless me 
instead of looking like that.” 


292 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


For a moment, though, in spite of her forced mirth, 
Clotilde shrank from her sister’s wild gaze, but only to put 
on an air of bravado as she exclaimed : 

“ There, Rie, I made up my mind to serve you out, and 
I did.” 

Marie drew away from her, gazing in her false, hand- 
some face the while, and sank back in the nearest chair, 
holding her hands pressed against her side as if she were 
in terrible pain, while her face worked as a convulsive sob 
escaped from her breast. 

“ What does it matter now ? You are looking as if — as 
if Rie ! Here, take my salts.” 

“ Keep back, woman — don’t touch me,” cried Marie, in 
a low voice. “Sister? No, you must be a demon, and 
— oh! Goci help me! God help me!” she wailed ; 
“ what have I done ? ” 

Clotilde rushed at her with an imperious “ Hush ! ” but 
her sister avoided her grasp, and fled to the bell, rang it 
furiously, and startled Clotilde into silence, as a servant 
hurried up. 

“ Quick ! I am ill. Fetch Lord Henry,” gasped Marie ; 
and as the butler hurried out, she followed him downstairs, 
leaving her sister too much startled by the effects of her 
revelation to do more than listen at the half-opened door. 

“ What do I care ! ” she said at last. “ She is ill, and 
she is gone. She will not dare to say a word, and I can 
live down any nonsense on the part of Rie.” 

The front door closed as she uttered these words, after 
which she turned back into the room, and threw herself 
upon a couch. 

“ I wish someone would come, if it was only stupid little 
Dick,” she said pettishly. “ Poor old Rie ! But she did 
not marry Marcus Glen.” 

Clotilde’s white teeth closed with a snap, and she lay 
perfectly still, gazing at her handsome face in the nearest 
glass. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


293 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

GERTRUDE TAKES SANCTUARY. 

Valentine Vidler and Salome his wife chirped about the 
gloomy house in Wimpole Street like a pair of exceedingly 
happy crickets. Vidler used to kiss Mrs. V. and say she 
was a “ dear little woman,” and Mrs. V. would always, 
when they were downstairs amongst the shining coppers 
and tins, call Vidler “ love.” They were quaint to look at, 
but their blood circulated just as did that of other speci- 
mens of humanity ; their nerves grew tense or slack in the 
same way ; and in their fashion they thoroughly enjoyed 
life. 

Certainly no children were born unto them, a fact due, 
perhaps, to the absence of light ; but somehow the little 
couple were very happy without, and so their life glided on 
as they placidly thought of other people’s troubles, talked 
of how the captain took this or that, wondered when Sir 
Humphrey would come and see him again; if Lady Millet 
would ever get over the snubbing she had had, for 
wanting to interfere during a visit, and let in light ; when 
she declared she could not exist without, and Captain 
Millet had told her she could get plenty out of doors. 

Dull as the house seemed, it was never dull to Salome, 
with her dusting, cleaning, cooking, and cutting-up little 
squares and diamonds of cotton print for her master’s 
needle, and afterwards lining and quilting the counterpanes, 
which were in great request for charitable affairs and fancy 
bazaars. 

The kitchen at Wimpole Street was very cosy in its way 
— a good fire always burned in the glistening grate, a 
cricket or two chirped in warm corners ; there was a very 
white hearthstone, a very bright steel fender, and a very 
thick warm hearthrug, composed of cloth shreds, in front 
of the little round table drawn up pretty close ; for absence 
of light meant apparently absence of heat. 


294 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


The-tea things were out, it being eight o’clock ; the 
Captain’s dinner over, Renee seated by the panel reading 
to him in a low voice, and the Vidlers’ duties done for the 
day. Hence, then, they had their tea punctually at eight 
o’clock, making it their supper as well. 

Vidler was busy, with a white napkin spread over his 
knees, making toast, which Mrs. V. buttered liberally, and 
then placed round after round upon the plate, which just 
fitted the steel disc in the fender. 

The kettle was sending out its column of steam, the hot 
toast looked buttery and brown, and a fragrant scent arose 
from the teapot, the infusion being strong and good, con- 
sequent upon the Captain’s having one cup directly after his 
dinner, and the pot being kept afterwards to draw. 

The meal over and the tea-things washed up, Salome doing 
the washing, finishing off with that special rinse round of 
the tray with hot water and the pouring out of the rinsings 
at one corner, just as a photographer used to cover his plate 
with collodion; the table was cleared, aprons folded and 
put away by Vidler in the dresser drawer, while his wife 
brushed up the hearth, and then came the event of the day 
— that is to say, the work being done, came the play. 

It was the Vidlers’ sole amusement, and it was entered 
into with a kind of solemn unction in accordance with 
the gloom of the place. Some learned people would 
have been of opinion that a light gymnastic kind of sport 
would have been that most suited for such a life as the 
Vidlers led, and would have liked to see hooks in the ceil- 
ing, and Valentine and his little wife swinging by ropes 
and turning head over heels on bars for the bringing into 
, play of unused muscles. They might have introduced, too, 
that pleasing occupation of turning one’s self into a human 
quintain, with a couple of clubs swung round and round 
over the head to the great endangerment of the rows of 
plates and tureens upon the dresser, but they would have 
been wrong : the stairs gave both an abundance of 
gymnastic exercise, and their ordinary work brought their 
other, muscles into play. Hence, then, they disported 
themselves over a pleasant pastime which combined skill, 
the elements of chance, and arithmetical calculation — the 
Vidlers’ pastime was cribbage. 

The cards taken from the box which opened out into a 
board were tolerably clean, though faded, it being Salome’s 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


295 


custom to rub them once a week with bread-crumbs, and 
upon the couple taking their places, with avast amount of 
solemnity, spectacles were mounted, and the game began. 

Old fashioned six-card cribbage was their favorite, be- 
cause, as Yidler said, he didn’t care twopence for a game 
where there wasn’t plenty of pegging ; so the cards were 
cut. Salome won the deal ; they were cut again and she 
began. 

It was a sight to see Salome deal the cards. Had they 
been hundred-pound notes she could not have been more 
particular ; wetting her thumb, and taking the greatest 
care she could to deliver only one at a time, while Vidler 
looked calmly on, then took up his, smiled at them, selected 
two for the crib, frowned over them, counted how many he 
should hold, tried another way, seemed satisfied, and then 
as he threw out, having thoroughly instructed his partner 
— now his opponent — in all the technicalities and time- 
honored sayings of the game, he informed Salome that he 
had contrived a “ regular bilk.” 

“ Have you ? ” said Salome, nodding and throwing out 
her own couple. “ Cut up.” 

Vidler “ cut up,” and Salome took the card upon the 
top, exclaimed “ Two for his heels,” scored them and 
Vidler frowned, for his “ bilk ” accorded wonderfully well 
with the turned-up card. 1:4 Master didn’t seem to relish 
that cutlet,” said Vidler, playing first — “ six.” 

“ No,” said Salome, “ he has been too much bothered 
lately — “ fifteen,” and she scored a second “ two.” 

“ More trouble coming,” said Vidler — “ twenty-two.” 

“ And mine’s a screw,” said Salome seriously, taking 
another couple for thirty-one. 

Then the played cards were solemnly turned down and 
the game went on. 

“ Eight,” said Vidler. “ How ill Miss Renee looks 1 ” 

“ Fourteen,” said Salome, playing a six. “ Yes, poor 
girl ; she’s brought her pigs to a bad market.” 

“ Got you this time,” said Vidler, smiling, as he played 
an ace — “ fifteen ” — and scored his two. 

“ Twenty,” said Salome ; and so the game went on, the 
little woman playing with all the serious precision of an 
old stager, calling thirty-one “eleven,” informing Vidler 
when she was well ahead that it was “ all Leadenhall Street 
to a China orange,” and proving herself such an adept 
that the little man was thoroughly beaten. 


296 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Better luck next time,” said Vidler, giving the cards a 
good shuffle ; and then the pair stopped to listen, for faint 
and low, like a melody from another land, came the sad 
sweet voice of Renee, singing that wonderful old Irish air, 
“ Grammachree,” putting an end to the play, for the couple 
sat and listened, Vidler nodding his head gently, and waving 
a card to the melancholy cadence till it ended, when the 
game once more began. 

Pop ! 

“ Bless us and save us ! ” cried Salome, dropping her 
cribbage-peg as she was in the act of scoring three for a 
run ; “ is it a purse or a coffin ? ” 

Vidler rose, and, taking the tongs, carefully picked up 
the cinder which had flown from the fire, and was now 
making an unpleasant savor of burning woollen fabric to 
arise from the hearthrug. He laid it solemnly upon the 
table to cool, and then it was shaken by Salome, but gave 
forth no answering tinkle. 

“ It isn’t a purse,” she said, holding it to the light. “ It’s 
a coffin ! ” 

She handed the little hollow bubble of cindery coal-tar 
to her husband, and he laid it down, took off and wiped 
his perfectly clean spectacles, and replaced them before 
carefully examining the portent by the light. 

“It’s a coffin for somebody,” he said solemnly ; and then 
as he carefully cremated the cinder in the most glowing 
portion of the fire, the couple sighed, resumed their places 
and sat listening as the voice of Renee singing to Captain 
Millet once more came down to where they sat. 

It was “ Ye banks and braes ” this time, and when the 
pathetic old air was ended Salome sighed. 

“ Ah. poor dear, yes — 1 My false ler-huv has plu-ucked 
the ro-az, and ler-heft the thor — horn be — hi — hind with 
me,’ ” said and sang Salome, in a little piping plaintive 
voice. “ I hope it isn’t for her ! ” 

“ It may mean only trouble,” said Vidler, with his head 
on one side. “ I have known coffins pop out of the fire 
and no one die.” 

“ Oh dear no,” said Salome. “ There’s not a minute 
passes but someone dies. 

“ No,” said Vidler slowly, as if the great problem pro- 
pounded required much consideration ; “ but so long as it 
isn’t anyone here, why, it don’t matter.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


297 


4< Quite so much/' said Salome correctively. “ Let me 
see ; it was three for a run. I shall beat you this time. 
You want fourteen.” 

li Yes,” said Vidler, chuckling ; “ but it’s my first show. 
You want sixteen.” 

“ Yes,” said Salome, pegging one for a “ go,” “ but I’ve 
got hand and crib. Now then.” 

“ Sixteen,” said Vidler triumphantly, as he threw down 
his cards and stuck a peg in the winning hole. 

“ Think of that now,” said Salome, as she gathered up 
the cards for what she called a good shuffle, which was 
performed by dividing the pack in two equal portions and 
holding them as if about to build a card house, allowing 
them to fall alternately one over the other. Then they 
were knocked together hard and square, and handed to 
Vidler, who gave them what he termed “ a Canterbury 
poke,” which consisted in rapidly thrusting his forefinger 
into the centre of the pack and driving out a large portion 
of the cards, which were afterwards placed upon the top. 
Then the pack was cut once more, and game after game 
followed till suddenly there was a loud ring at the bell. 

“ What was that ? ” cried Salome. 

“ The coffin,” said Vidler solemnly. 

“ Bless us and save us, man, don’t look like that ! ” cried 
Salome ; “ it turns me cold all down my back ; ” and then 
with a shiver, and very wide open eyes, she followed her 
little lord up to the front door, where Mrs. Huish’s maid was 
waiting with a note and a cab to take Renee away. 

This caused a little flutter upstairs, and a greater one 
down, where Jane, with a few additions of her own, related 
the arrest of her master. 

“ It was trouble, then, and not death,” said Vidler sagely 
to his wife, who then had to answer the bell, and assist 
Renee, who, after a short conference with Captain Millet, 
dressed and hurried off to join her sister. 

“ Good-bye, my dear,” said the captain, sighing. “ I 
shall not go to bed. You may return.” 

Renee was seen into the cab, and the Vidlers, upon 
receiving an intimation from their master, made up the 
kitchen fire and sat before it, as if cooking, to see if Mrs. 
Morrison came back, which she did in about an hour, on 
finding from the cook that Huish had been and taken her 
sister away, the same personage informing her that Sir 
Humphrey and Mr. Millet had not returned. 


298 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Renee hesitated for a time as to whether she should stay 
or go to Grosvenor Square to make inquiries ; but this last 
she was averse to doing ; and, with a full conviction upon 
her that Huish and Gertrude would be sure to call at 
Wimpole Street, even if she had not already missed them, 
she hurried back. 

“ They may come yet,” said Captain Millet quietly. 
“ We will wait and see.” 

Fresh candles were brought, and tea was made, of which 
no one partook, and then the occupants of the gloomy 
house waited hour after hour in full faith of some news 
coming during the night, with the consequence that every^ 
one was on the alert when the bell rang about four o'clock, 

Vidler hastened up to open the door, and uttered a cry 
of dismay which brought down Renee, for Gertrude Huish 
fell forward fainting into his arms, to lie where she was 
carried hour after hour, now awakening to a wild hysterica] 
fit, now sinking back into semi-unconsciousness, and 
always unable to respond to the eager queries, till at last 
she started up wildly, and on recognizing her sister, flung 
her arms round her neck, exclaiming ; 

“ Oh, Ren, Ren ! is there no more happiness on earth ? 
My poor heart’s broken : I shall die ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

LADY HENRY GROWS CALM. 

“ Can you not take me into your confidence, Marie ? ” said 
Lord Henry, on meeting his wife at the breakfast- table the 
morning after her sister’s revelation. 

She looked at him wildly for a few moments, her large 
eyes encircled with dark rings, and the traces of terrible 
emotion in her blanched face. 

She had been in a state of mental agony the night 
through, refusing to retire, and passing much of the time 
in pacing up and down the room. But towards morning 
she had grown calmer. Her mental pain was somewhat 
dulled, and as she perceived the terrible agitation into 
whicli she had plunged her husband, she began to feel a 
kind of remorse and pity for him as well as for herself. 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


299 


At first she had been half maddened, for she did not 
for a moment doubt Clotilde’s words. Everything was 
only too suggestive, and as she felt that she had hasfily 
condemned Marcus Glen, who had been all that was chi- 
valrous and true, there were moments when she told her- 
self that she could not live. 

It was so horrible. She had loved Marcus Glen with 
all the strong passion of her nature. For his sake she 
would have borne poverty and privation, and been truly 
happy, believing thoroughly in his love ; but when, in 
place of finding him the true, honest gentleman she had 
trusted, she believed that he was base, her love had turned 
to hatred, and she had fled, telling herself that she had 
nothing to hope for now, and that if she could make others 
happy she need expect no more. 

Awakening at last, after a night of bitter suffering, to 
the anguish of her husband, she had make a brave effort 
over self, and turned to him as her refuge from the suffer- 
ing to which she was reduced. 

She clung to him, praying for help and strength to cast 
out the image of Marcus Glen from her heart, and at last 
she felt that she had the strength, and told herself that she 
would consider the past as dead. 

But even as she lay there with her husband’s hands 
pressed to her forehead, the thought would come that she 
ought to tell Marcus Glen that she knew the truth. 

A paroxysm of agony followed this thought. What avail 
would it be now ? She felt that he would curse her for her 
want of faith in him, and, think of it all as she would, 
she could only come to the conclusion that, in her haste 
and want of trust in him she loved, she had blasted her 
future, and must bear it to the end. 

Daybreak at last ; and with the sun came thoughts of 
her position, and the necessity for making some effort — 
an effort which she was now too weak to essay. But at 
last she rose, and as the time wore on begged Lord Henry 
to leave her, meeting him again a couple of hours later at 
breakfast, apparently calm, but with a tempest raging in 
her breast. 

He uttered no word of reproach, but was tenderness it- 
self, and the tears stole more than once down his furrowed 
cheeks, and when at last he appealed to her as her husband, 
she broke down, threw herself sobbing upon his breast, and 
begged him to spare her. 


300 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ I will not say another word,” he replied gently. “ My 
wish is to make you happy in my poor way, and I only 
pressed you for your confidence, so that I might help you 
to be more at rest.” 

“ I don’t like to have secrets from you,” she whispered ; 
“ dear husband.” 

He held her more tightly to his breast as she called him 
this, and she uttered a low sigh of relief, for it was as 
though he told her of his trust. It gave her strength to 
proceed, and she went on : 

“ My sister quarreled with me, and said such bitter 
things that I could not bear them. She brought up the 
scene upon that terrible night of which you were a witness.” 

“ Let it be buried with the past,” said Lord Henry 
gravely. “ It should never have been revived, and I see 
now but too plainly that I was to blame in accepting the 
invitation.” 

“ Never accept one again ; I could not bear it. Clo- 
tilde’s path and mine must be separate through life. I 
could not meet her now.” 

“ Are you not too hard upon your sister ? ” 

“ Hard?” cried Marie. “ Oh no ! You do not know 
all,” she was about to say, but she refrained, and went on : 
“ Clotilde has altered since her marriage. I think we 
should be happier apart. Help me in this, dear husband. 
It would be better so.” 

He raised her face, and gazed tenderly into her wild 
eyes, as he said : 

“ Your happiness is my care, Marie, my child. I pro- 
mised to try and make your home one of rest and peace. 
Ask me what you will, and it shall be done.” 

“ Then you will keep our lives separate from my sister’s,” 
she cried eagerly. 

“ If you asked me my wishes on the subject,” he said 
quietly, and he smiled as he spoke, “ I should gladly cut 
myself off from all connection with Mr. Elbraham and his 
wife. But we have our social duties to perform, Marie, 
even if they are against our taste.” 

“ Duties \” cried Marie excitedly; “ it is my duty to 
avoid my sister, yours to keep us apart. Believe me, this 
is for the best.” 

“ I gladly follow out your wishes, my child,” said Lord 
H^nry, “and I will ask you no more questions if you will 
try to let this cloud go by.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


301 


“Yes, yes,” she cried eagerly, “it is gone;” and she 
flung her arms round his neck, and sobbed hysterically 
upon his breast. 

“ There,” she cried with a piteous smile, for the face of 
Marcus Glen seemed to haunt her still. “ Now I am quite 
calm, and I have a petition to make.” 

“ What is it? ” he said with a sigh of relief, and the lines 
in his face grew less deep. 

“ I want you to let me ask my cousin Ruth to come and 
stay with me — to be like a companion to me. Don’t think,” 
she hastened to add, “ that I am dull and want companions, 
but I have a double object to. perform.” 

“ Yes ? ” he said inquiringly. 

“ I wish — I want to withdraw her from Clotilde’s in- 
fluence.” 

“ A good and worthy desire, my child,” he said, bowing 
his approval. “ I like Ruth very, very much. She is 
sweet, and natural, and true.” 

11 She is,” cried Marie eagerly. 

“ And your other object ? ” 

“ I wish to watch over her, and to try and influence her 
future. She would be happier with me, and if she is to 
marry I should like hers to be a happy choice.” 

“ Of course, yes, you are quite right ; and what do you 
say — shall we fetch her here ? ” 

“ Yes,” cried Marie eagerly. 

“ When ? To-day ? ” 

“ Yes — no,” replied Marie. “ I am not strong enough ; 
I am not calm enough to-day. I will write and ask her to 
be ready to-morrow, and, if you will do it, let us drive down 
and fetch her.” 

Lord Henry Moorpark sighed with relief and pleasure, 
and soon after, fighting bravely to crush down her own 
agony of heart, Marie wrote a note to ask her aunts’ per- 
mission for Ruth to come, and another to request her to 
be ready — and all the time with an intensity of sorrow 
striving with her wild and passionate love. She seemed 
to see in Ruth one who was to save her from the commis- 
sion of a crime from which she shrank in horror. Ruth 
would be her protector. Ruth should be always with her, 
and she would learn from her sweet, innocent young heart 
how to school her own. 


302 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


The visit of Ruth to her cousin in St. James’ Square 
commenced during a temporary absence of Mr. Paul 
Montaigne from his apartments at Teddington, Business 
had taken him to London where lie stayed a week, at the 
end of which time he walked through the chestnut avenue 
quietly, as of old, paused by the Diana pool to cast a few 
crumbs to the fishes, and then continued his walk, with 
his hands behind him, to the Palace, where he was met by 
Joseph, at whom he smiled benignantly, and was shown 
in to where the honorable sisters were seated at their em- 
broidery. The hands of the fair Isabella were a little more 
tremulous than was their wont, consequent upon an en- 
counter during a walk, when she and her sister had met 
Glen. 

The visitor was received most warmly, and heard glow- 
ing accounts of the happiness and brilliant establishments 
of the dear children. 

“ Yes,” he said blandly, “they must be happy. I had 
some thought of calling upon them when in town, but I 
bethought me that they must be fully occupied with their 
friends and the management of their homes, and that my 
visit, at present, might seem out of place.” 

“ I think it would have been a duty properly fulfilled — 
what do you say, sister ? ” exclaimed the Honorable 
Philippa. 

“ I think it would have been a duty and a kindness,” said 
the Honorable Isabella, making a couple of false stitches 
before she found out her mistake. 

“ I have been remiss,” said Montaigne, with a bland 
smile, as he bent his head. “ How day by day one awakens 
more and more to the fact that human nature is far from 
perfect ! ” • 

“ Ah, indeed ! ” said the Honorable Philippa. 

“ Yes, indeed ! ” said the Honorable Isabella, with a 
lively recollection of her thoughts regarding Marcus Glen. 

. “ I must try and remedy my failing, ladies, at my next 
visit to town. But how is the last lamb in this peaceful 
fold— Ruth ? ” 

He uttered this inquiry with his eyes half closed, and a 
calm, sweet smile played the while "about his lips till he 
heard the Honorable Philippa’s reply : 

“ Oh, she is in town ! Lord and Lady Henry came 
down in the barouche the day before yesterday, and fetched 
her up to stay with them for some time.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


303 


The warm, pleasant look in Paul Montaigne’s face 
changed to one of a grim cold gray ; the smile disappeared, 
his lips tightened, and he seemed for the moment to have 
grown old and careworn. Even his voice changed, and 
sounded hard and harsh as he said quickly : 

“ Indeed ? I did not know.” 

“ Marie thought it would be a pleasant change for her, 
and companionable as well, and dear Lady Littletown, who 
was calling at the time, said it was the best thing we could 
do. So she is gone.” 

“ It would be a most pleasant change.” 

“ And, of course, you know, dear Mr. Montaigne, Ruth 
is no longer a child, and, er you understand.” 

“ Yes, of course,” said Montaigne ; who, however, 
recalled to mind that Ruth was quite a child until her 
cousins were married. 

At that idea of seeing company and the following sug- 
gestion of marriage the strange pallor became more evident 
in Montaigne’s countenance, and in spite of his forced smile 
and self-control, h6 kept passing his dry tongue over his 
parched lips, and unconsciously drew in his breath as if he 
were suffering from thirst. 

He grew worse as the conversation continued to take 
the ugly turn, to him, of marriage. For, said the Honor- 
able Philippa : 

“ Lady Littletown informs us that a marriage is on the 
tapis between Mr. Arthur Litton, a friend of Mr. Elbra- 
ham, and our dear Lady Anna Maria Morton.” 

“ I congratulate Lady Anna Maria, I am sure,” said 
Montaigne huskily; and as he glanced at the Honorable 
Isabella that lady trembled more than usual, and believed 
that Montaigne was reading her heart, and mentally asking 
her whether she would ever be married to Marcus Glen. 

Mr. Montaigne refused to stay to lunch. He had so 
many little things to attend to consequent upon the busi- 
ness that had called him to London ; in fact, even now he 
was only down for a few hours, having come to seek some 
papers. These he had found, and he was going back to 
town at once. Business was very tiresome, he said. 

The honorable sisters agreed that it was, and Mr. Mon- 
taigne took his leave with reverent, affectionate grace, and 
passed out into the gardens, along whose broad gravel 
paths he walked slowly in his customary way — bland, sweet, 


•304 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


and introspective with his half-closed eyes. But though he 
did not increase his pace in obedience to his rapidly-beating 
pulse, a close observer would have noticed that he did not 
stop to feed the fishes on his way back to Teddington, while 
his landlady was surprised at the hurried way in which he 
placed a few things in his bag and again took his departure. 

The change from Hampton Court to St. James’ was 
delightful to Ruth, who only felt one drawback to the 
pleasure of her visit — that she could not expect to see 
Marcus Glen and Richard Millet during her walks. 

“ I wonder whether she thinks him so guilty as she did,” 
mused Ruth ; and these musings were continued one even- 
ing after dinner, when she was seated at work in Lord 
Henry’s drawing-room, with Marie, who was very pale, 
close at hand ; Lord Henry being, according to custom, 
seated over his wine — a pleasant, old-fashioned fiction, 
wherein a decanter of excellent old port was placed before 
him every evening, of which he drank one glass only, and 
then went to sleep till the butler announced tea. 

Just in the midst of her thoughts respecting Marcus 
Glen, and as if some electric mental chord of sympathy 
existed between them, Marie said, in a quiet, rather forced 
voice : 

“ Have you seen Captain Glen lately, Ruthy ? ” 

It cost Marie a tremendous effort to say those words 
calmly. And then that terrible pang of jealousy shot 
through her breast once more as she saw the crimson blood 
flush into Ruth’s cheeks and rise above her brows. 

Poor Ruth faltered, and looked as guilty as if she had 
been discovered in some offence, as she replied : 

“ Yes, only a few days ago. He spoke to us in the Gar- 
dens. I was walking with my aunts.” 

Marie felt relieved. He could not have said much to 
Ruth if her aunts were by, and she sighed with content, 
but only to take herself angrily to task once more, and strive 
to spur herself onward to her duty. It was in this dis- 
position, then, that she said quietly : 

“ I thought it right to say to you, Ruthy, that I think 
you were correct about — about Captain Glen.” 

“ That he was not guilty, as you imagined ? ” cried Ruth 
eagerly. 

Marie bowed her head, and she felt a strange constric- 
tion of the heart on seeing the bright animation in Ruth’s 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


305 


countenance — a suggestion of the pain that she was in 
future to feel ; but she mastered her emotion, and Ruth 
went on : 

“ I am so, so glad, you cannot think ! ” she said. 

“ Why ? ” said Marie, in a cold, hard voice, which made 
Ruth color highly ; but she spoke out. 

“ Because it seemed so cruel to one who always was kind 
and chivalrous and ” 

She stopped short with a curiously puzzled look gather- 
ing upon her brow, for it now occurred to her that Marie 
must be angry with herself for casting off Marcus Glen, but 
•she could not read it in her eyes, while the puzzled look 
deepened as Marie said quietly : 

“lam very glad, Ruthy — very glad to feel that I was not 
mistaken in him, and that he is indeed the true gentleman 
we believed.” 

Ruth took a stool and placed it at Marie’s feet, seating 
herself there and clinging to her hand, while her cousin 
softly stroked her hair, vowing to herself the while that 
if Ruth cared for Marcus Glen, no jealous pang should 
hinder her from aiding in bringing them together, and no 
act of hers should be such as would be traitorous to Lord 
Henry, her confiding husband. 

“ Why do you look at me so strangely, Ruthy ? ” said 
Marie at last. 

“ I was thinking.” 

“ Thinking what? ” 

“ Don’t ask me, Marie,” said Ruth in a troubled tone. 

“ Why not? Shall I tell you ? You were thinking that 
I repent of having married Lord Henry, now that I know 
I was deceived. Tell me!” she cried, lifting up Ruth’s 
burning face, and gazing at her searchingly : “ you were 
thinking that, were you not? ” 

“Yes,” faltered Ruth, u I was.” 

“ Then you were wrong, Ruthy,” said Marie gravely. 
“ Perhaps I did feel something like compunction when I 
found this out, but that is all past now, and I am married 
to one of the best and kindest of men.” 

“ And you are happy, Marie ? ” 

There was a pause, for it cost Marie a bitter struggle to 
utter that one word with a smile, but she spoke it bravely 
at last, and there was a sense of relief after it was said : 


20 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


306 

“ Quite.” Then, after another pause : 11 Lord Henry is 
all that is tender and good to me; and now, Ruthy, about 
yourself? ” 

“ Oh, I am only too glad to come and see you some- 
times ! ” 

“ Yes ; but about this little heart. Ruthy, will you con- 
fide in me ? ” 

Marie drew the trembling girl closer to her side, and 
tried to gaze in her face, but it was averted. 

“Yes,” she whispered; “of course I will.” 

“ Then tell me this — frankly : you love Marcus Glen ? ” 

The pained aspect came back into Marie’s face, and her 
brow was rugged, as she waited for Ruth’s answer. 

“ I don’t know,” said Ruth at last. 

“You don’t know? Is this your confidence ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t speak angrily to me ! ” cried Ruth passion- 
ately. “ I will keep nothing from you, Marie. Indeed, 
indeed I do not know, only that I have prayed, so hard, so 
very hard, that I might not love him.” 

“ Prayed that you might not love him ? ” said Marie, 
smiling. 

“ Yes ; for I felt that it would be so treacherous, and 
that it would cause pain to all — to you — to me. Oh, why 
do you ask me this ? ” 

“ Hush ! you are growing agitated, and I want to talk to 
you quietly, and for your good. Suppose it had ceased to 
be treacherous to think of Captain Glen — suppose he could 
be brought to love you, and were to ask you to be his wife : 
what would you say then ? ” 

A servant entered and announced Mr. Paul Montaigne ; 
and, blandly calm and smiling, that gentleman entered the 
room. 

It was a surprise for both, and Ruth’s heart began to 
beat strangely fast as, in his customary paternal way, Mon- 
taigne greeted each in turn. She recalled that evening 
when their visitor had talked with her in the drawing-room, 
but her dread had increased each time they met, and it was 
all she could do to keep from shrinking from him and show- 
ing her aversion. 

But little was said more than that Montaigne told them 
he was in town on business, and that he had thought he 
would call, before Lord Henry joined them, greeting Mon- 
taigne very warmly, and ending, to Ruth’s horror, by asking 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


307 

him to dine with them next day, and to spend an hour with 
them whenever he could spare the time. 

The rest of that particular evening was passed in quite 
a political discussion between Lord Henry and his guest, 
Montaigne taking so little notice of Ruth that her heart 
grew more at rest ; but there was a something in his look 
as he said good-night, something in the pressure of his 
hand, that made her think this man loved her, and as she 
felt for the moment that it might be possible for him to 
ask her aunts to give her to him as his wife, the poor girl 
turned cold, and gladly went off shivering to her sleep- 
forsaken bed. 

Ruth had not been with her long when Marie received 
the old-fashioned communication of wedding cards ; the 
notice in the paper of the marriage of Arthur Litton, Esq., 
of Duke Street, St. James’, to Lady Anna Maria Morton, 
of the private apartments, Hampton Court Palace, having 
escaped her eye. 

The young couple took a house in Bryanston Square, 
which Lady Littletown said was charmingly furnished ; 
visits followed, at one of which an unexpected encounter 
took place. 

Lady Anna Maria was at home, the servant said in 
answer to the queries, and Marie and Ruth descended 
from the carriage, and were shown up to the drawing-room, 
where, seated with his back to the light, talking to the 
bride, was Glen, in company with Dick Millet. 

Marie felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed to 
her head, and the room seemed to swim round, but she 
mastered her emotion, and after receiving Lady Anna 
Maria’s greeting, she turned with quiet self-possession to 
where Glen stood, cold and stern, waiting to take leave, and 
calmly offered him her hand. 

“ I am glad to see you again, Captain Glen,” she said 
gravely ; and Marcus started with astonishment, eagerly 
catching the extended hand, and hardly able to stammer 
out some words of greeting. 

Then a bitter look crossed his face, and he turned from 
Marie coldly, and began, with a vivid recollection of the 
past, to talk to Ruth, while Marie made Dick color with 
pleasure as she shook hands, and then sat and chatted 
with him with all the warmth of an old friend. 


3°S 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


But the ice was broken, and that one meeting led to 
others, Lady Anna Maria, with all the eagerness of a young 
bride, lending herself to what was evidently in her eyes 
the making up of a match between Ruth, who was so 
charming and fresh and sweet, and Captain Glen. 

The visits to Bryanston Square were not frequent, but, 
to her horror, Ruth noted that Glen was always there as 
if he expected to meet Marie ; and though he was kind- 
ness itself and full of attention, his quiet deference and 
low-spoken words were for Marie alone. 

Mr. Arthur Litton was very rarely there, so that Lady 
Anna Maria was their sole entertainer, and this little lady 
had, after so many years of maidenhood, developed in her 
married life quite a girlish skittishness which resulted in a 
very silly flirtation with little Dick, who was most constant 
in his attentions, and seemed to ignore her ladyship’s 
excessively thin figure. 

“ I believe, Dick, you’d flirt with a mop if it was stuck 
in a petticoat,” said Glen to him one day on their way to 
Bryanston Square. “ What’s it all for — practice ? ” 

“ I don’t ask you why you flirt with married ladies,” said 
Dick sharply. 

Glen started, and looked grave. And at that time a 
little friendly counsel might have turned him aside, for he 
thought a good deal of quiet, grave Lord Henry. But he 
frowned, and said angrily, “ He is no friend of mine. He 
came between us. Why should I study him ? ” 

He closed his eyes then fast to the risk and danger, 
giving himself up to his revived passion, and went on 
gliding slowly down the slope towards the precipice that 
threatened both. 

On the other side, Ruth was passing through a strange 
course of education. At first, in her innocency, she could 
hardly believe it possible, but more and more the fact 
dawned upon her that a kind of self-deception was going 
on with Marie, who apparently believed that she was 
furthering Ruth’s happiness, while she was yielding to the 
delight of being once more in company with Glen, listen- 
ing to his voice, living a delicious, dreamy existence, of 
whose danger she seemed to be unaware. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


3°9 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A DANGEROUS ENEMY. 

Much as Ruth was in Marie’s confidence, and sisterly as 
their intercourse had become, there were points now upon 
which each feared to touch. 

Of late Glen’s name had ceased to be mentioned, and 
Ruth’s feelings towards Marie were a strange intermingling 
of love, jealousy, and fear. 

Ruth was alone one day in the drawing-room, having 
stayed at home on account of a slight headache, while 
Marie had gone to make a few calls after setting down 
Lord Henry at his club. 

Ruth had taken up a book, but though she went through 
page after page, she had not the slightest recollection of 
what she had been reading, her thoughts having wandered 
away to Marcus Glen and Marie. 

“ I ought to have gone with her,” she thought ; and then 
she began to tremble as she felt a kind of dread over- 
coming her. 

“It is terrrible,” she thought, “ I cannot bear it. He 
does not care for me, and I cannot save him ; but,” she 
cried, setting her teeth, “ I will not leave her again, and 
I will speak to her at once.” 

She hesitated for a moment, as if in alarm at the deter- 
mination she had made, and then moved towards the door. 

“ I will go on there at once ; she may be there. If she 
is not, Marcus Glen will be, and I will appeal to him, for 
I cannot bear this agony.” 

It was a good resolve, one which she would have carried 
out ; but just then she recoiled, and her heart began to 
beat painfully, while the blood forsook her cheeks. Mr. 
Montaigne had softly closed the door behind him, and was 
advancing towards her, with a smile upon his lip, and a 
peculiar look in his eyes, which made her tremble. 

“What!” he said, “alone? This is an unexpected 
pleasure.” 


3i° 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ He knew I was alone,” thought Ruth, “ and that is 
why he has come.” 

He advanced towards her, and in spite of her deter- 
mination to be firm she took a step or two backwards 
before she held out her hand, and said with tolerable 
firmness : 

“ Lady Henry has gone out in the carriage.” 

“ And will not be back just yet,” he said with a smile. 
“ Ah, well, it does not matter.” 

He had taken her hand and pressed it firmly, retaining 
it in his, and before Ruth could realize it he had drawn 
her to him, and pressed his lips to hers. 

“ Mr. Montaigne,” she cried, struggling to free herself. 
“ This is an insult ! ” 

“ What ! from me ? ” he whispered, his face flushing, and 
his arms clasping her more tightly. “ Why, what nonsense, 
Ruth ! You know how I have loved you from the time 
you were a child, and have always meant that you should 
some day be my little wife.” 

“ Oh no ! It is impossible ! Mr. Montaigne, are you 
mad ? ” 

She cast a despairing glance at the bell, but it was 
beyond her reach, and he smiled as he kissed her passion- 
ately again and again. 

“ Why are you left alone ? ” he said in a hoarse whisper ; 
“ because fate has arranged it expressly for us. See how 
I have patiently waited for an opportunity, ever since that 
night when we were surprised in each other’s arms by that 
wretched servant. Why, Ruth, Ruth, my little one, what 
is the use of this struggling? It is absurd. You are a 
woman now — the woman I have always loved. It is our 
secret, darling and ” 

“ Help ! help ! ” cried Ruth loudly as the door opened 
and Marie walked in, Mr. Paul Montaigne, carried away 
by his passion, having failed to hear the carriage stop, 
quite a couple of hours sooner than he had expected. 

“ What is the meaning of this ? ” cried Marie fiercely, as 
Ruth ran to her arms, panting and sobbing with shame. 

“ Marie — why did you leave me ? He — insulted — this 
man ” 

“ Is a villain who hides his true nature beneath a mask,” 
cried Marie indignantly. “ I always doubted him. How 
comes he to be alone here with you ? Leave the house, 


A DOUBLE KNOT \ 


3 " 

sir ! Lord Henry shall be made acquainted with the 
conduct of his guest.” 

Marie placed Ruth in a chair, and was crossing towards 
the bell, when Montaigne said quietly : 

“ Ah, yes ; poor Lord Henry ! He does not know us 
all by heart.” 

Marie stopped as if she had been stung, and faced round, 
darting an indignant glance at Montaigne, who, in place 
of leaving the room, coolly walked to one of the mirrors, 
and readjusted his white tie. 

Marie recovered herself, and had her hand upon the 
bell, when Montaigne said quietly : 

“ Don’t be foolish, my dear ; exposures are such 
awkward things.” 

“ For you, sir,” cried Marie. “ Then leave the house, 
and never enter it again. But for the fact of your being so 
old a friend, I would have you turned out.” 

“ Words, words, words, my dear Marie,” he said, taking 
a chair and crossing his legs. “Let me see. It is Hamlet 
says that, I think. Now look here, my dear child — but 
sit down, I want to talk to you.” 

“ Will you leave this room, sir ? ” cried Marie angrily. 

“No, my child, I shall not,” he said smiling. “You say 
you are ready to expose me for this playful little interview 
which you interrupted between Ruth here and myself — 
Ruth, the lady who is to be my wife.” 

“ Your wife ! ” cried Marie indignantly. 

“ Yes : my wife ; and don’t raise your voice like that, 
my dear child. By the way, you are back soon. Was 
not our dear Marcus at Bryanston Square?” 

“Marcus? Captain Glen?” cried Marie whose lips 
turned white. 

“ There, my dear little girl. You are not little now, but 
you seem little to me. You forget, in this wondrous fit of 
virtuous anger, that I have stood for so many years 
towards you in the light of a father. In my way I have 
helped you to a position and a rich husband, and when I 
found that, womanlike — fashionable womanlike, I should 
say — your ladyship was beginning to show taste for pleasure, 
and even taking to your handsome self a lover. I did not 
interfere. While because I, in due course, and after a 
long and patient courtship, take the girl I love in my 
arms, you talk of turning me out, call me scoundrel and 


3 12 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


villain, and threaten me with Lord Henry’s displeasure.” 

“ It is disgraceful, sir,” said Marie ; “ you are old 
enough to be her father.” 

“ Humph ! Yes. Perhaps so, but nothing like so much 
older as Lord Henry is than you. Now look here, my 
dear Marie, I am obliged to speak plainly. I don’t ask for 
a truce; but I demand your help and countenance. I 
mean to marry Ruth.” 

Marie stood pointing to the door, but Montaigne did 
not stir. 

“Pshaw!” he exclaimed — “a stage trick. Are you 
aware of what it means to make me your enemy, my dear 
child? You are angry and excited now. You did not 
quite realize my words. Do you think I am blind about 
Captain Glen ? As to dropping the mask, well, there, it is 
down. I am a man even as you are a woman, and why 
should I not love ? ” 

Marie’s arm dropped to her side, and she stood gazing 
at him with her cheeks and lips now ashy of hue. 

“ There,” he continued, laughing, “ the storm is over, 
and we understand each other. I will go now, and mind 
this, dear Marie, I will religiously keep your ladyship’s 
secrets so long as you keep mine.” 

He rose, and, taking her hand, mockingly kissed it. 
Then crossing to Ruth, he would have caught her in his 
arms, but she started from him, and stood at bay on the 
other side of a table. 

“ You foolish child ! ” he said, laughing ; “ you must be 
a little wiser when I come again.” 

As the door closed upon him Marie stood with her eyes 
closed, listening, and then with a cry of despair she threw 
herself into her cousin’s arms. 

“ Oh, Ruth, Ruth, Ruth, what have I done ! what have 
I done ! I swear to you I am innocent, indeed — indeed.” 

“ I believe it, I know it,” cried Ruth, holding her to her 
heart ; “ but oil, Marie, you must never see him again. 
Pray, pray keep away.” 

“ Yes, yes,” she cried ; “ I will. I am innocent, I am 
indeed. But, oh ! it is horrible. I will stay away. I will 
see him no more. But you — that man— he has us in his 
power.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” said a soft voice ; “ I think I 
must have left my gloves in here. Yes, there they are ! ” 
and Paul Montaigne quietly crossed the room, took a pair 


A DOUBLE KNOT . 


3*3 


of gloves from a chair, and then smiled and went softly out. 

The cousins gazed in each other’s eyes, motionless, till 
they heard the closing of the front door. 

“Oh, Marie,” whispered Ruth, in an awe-stricken way, 
“ he must have heard every word you said ! ” 

And Marie echoed hoarsely, “ Every word ! ” 

Mr. Montaigne allowed a couple of days to elapse before 
he called again in St. James’, and then he bit his lip, for 
the shutters were closed, and various other indications 
showed that the family was out of town. 

It was no unusual time for anyone to go, for as he stood 
there hesitating on the step, a slatternly-looking girl was 
making the streets ring with her minor-pitched cry of 
“Sixteen branches a penny — new lavender; sixteen 
branches a penny.” It was well on in August, and fash- 
ionable London was taking wing. 

“Clever woman!” thought Montaigne: “this is her 
move; but I can mate her when I please.” 

He rang, and a woman-servant answered the bell. 

His lordship was out of town, the woman said. 

“At his country seat?” said Montaigne at haphazard, 

“ Oh dear no, sir ! his lordship has taken my lady and 
Miss Allerton on the Continong, and they are not coming 
back for some time. Mr. Harvey, his lordship’s agent, 
will send on all letters.” 

“ Thank you. I am very much obliged,” said Montaigne 
with his blandest smile ; and he raised his hat and went 
away smiling, cursing Marie in his heart. 

“ All comes to the man who waits,” he thought. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 
ruth’s work undone. 

The Continental trip extended to months, after which 
there were a few visits, so that it was well into the next 
season before they were back at the house in St. James’, 
and after their return Marie devoted herself to Ruth, hop- 
ing that Montaigne would not show himself again, though 
they both trembled at the thought of his coming. 


3 ! 4 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


Still, he did not show himself, and matters went on so 
happily and well that Ruth began to hope that Marie’s love 
for Glen was dead, when, in an evil hour, and, as Marie 
said, to fulfil a social duty, they called upon Lady Anna 
Maria Morton, meeting Lady Littletown there ; when that 
lady insisted upon their dining with her at her town house, 
and it was next to impossible to refuse. 

Lady Littletown was a match-maker at heart, and she 
always looked upon her conservatory, with its brilliant 
flowers, as her greatest aid in such matters. Hence it was 
that her ladyship took care to have a conservatory wherever 
she lived. 

She had taken a handsome house in South Kensington 
for a short season, one that was admirably furnished in 
this respect, though far from being equal to Mr. Elbra- 
ham’s glass palace. Still, it was enough. 

Lord Henry frowned slightly on finding that Captain 
Glen was among the guests, and deputed by Lady Little- 
town to take Marie into dinner ; but his brow cleared 
directly, and he smiled at his wife as she passed him and 
gave him an appealing look that seemed to say, “ Don’t 
blame me.” 

Hardly had they passed on to the staircase before Glen 
said in a quick agitated voice : “ I thought I was never to 
see you again. I must have a few words with you before 
you go.” 

Five minutes before Marie had told herself that she was 
brave and strong, and that the past fancy was dead ; but 
on hearing these words her hand trembled, her heart beat 
fast, and she knew that she was as weak as ever, and that 
she could only falter : “ It is impossible ! ” 

“ It is not impossible ! ” he said angrily. “ I must — I 
will see you.” 

They entered the dining-room, and for the next two 
hours everything seemed to Marie like a dream. Lord 
Henry was at the bottom of the table, taking his old place 
of host, and the flower-filled vases completely shaded his 
wife from sight : still Ruth was exactly opposite, appar- 
ently listening to the conversation of Glen; but Marie 
knew that she was watching them narrowly. 

She went upstairs in a dream, just as she had come 
down, and answered questions, talked and entered into 
the various themes of conversation as if she were quite 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


3*5 


collected, but all the time there had been a restless throb- 
bing of her pulses, and she trembled, and felt that she would 
have given the world to be away ! 

At last ! 

Marie heard the dining-room door open, and the sound 
of ascending voices. Lord Henry would be there directly, 
and she would ask him to take her back. 

That was Marcus Glen’s voice speaking loudly, and 
every fibre of her body seemed to thrill as she listened to 
its tones. 

Marie’s back was to the door as he entered, and she 
could not see him ; but she seemed to feel his approach, 
and all was a dream once more, as he seated himself on 
the ottoman by her, and began to talk about some current 
topic. 

She answered him, took the opposite side, talking freely 
and well, and Lord Henry chided himself fur his uneasy 
feeling, and felt that he ought to be proud of such a wife. 
She was devoted to him, and he trusted her with all his 
heart. 

The conversation was very animated for the time that 
Glen stood by her ; but all the while Marie’s pulses kept 
up that quick, feverish throb, and there was the hidden 
sense of danger still within her heart. 

May had come round again, the Academy pictures were 
once more drawing their crowds, and directly after an 
early breakfast one morning, Marie and Ruth walked up 
into Piccadily to spend a couple of hours while the rooms 
were empty and cool. 

How it happened Marie afterwards hardly realized, but 
she had become separated from her cousin, who had wan- 
dered on into the next room, leaving her gazing listlessly 
about, when suddenly her heart seemed to stand still, for 
close beside her there was a low sigh, and she felt more 
than saw that Glen was at her elbow. 

Mastering her emotion, she turned quickly to reproach 
him for following her there, when she saw that he had his 
back to her, and was gazing intently at a portrait. She 
did not speak. It was a kind of gasp or catching of the 
breath ; but he heard it, and turned sharply round to face 
her. 

“ Marie ! ” he exclaimed. 


3 i6 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Hush ! Don’t speak to me, for God’s sake ! ” 

She said no more, but reeled, and would have fallen had 
he not caught her arm, and led her through ihe next open- 
ing and downstairs to the refreshment-room, quite empty 
at that early hour, the waiters not being ready for visitors.. 

There were a couple of the attendants at hand, ready to 
bring water and ice, and at the end of a few minutes Marie 
gazed wildly about her — starting violently, though, as she 
heard the deep voice at her side. 

“ That will do,” he said quietly. “ A few minutes’ rest 
and she will be quite recovered.” Th?n they were alone, 
with Glen whispering to her eagerly, and she listening with 
her eyes half closed, and a strange dazed look in her pallid 
face. 

“ No, no !” she said at last feebly. 

“ You shall,” he cried, and his strong will prevailed 
over her more and more. “ You must leave him, Marie. 
I do not ask it : I know you love me. You always have 
loved me. Come to me, my darling, or I must die.” 

“ Die ! ” she moaned. “ No, no ; not you. O God, for- 
give me ! Would that I were dead ! ” 

“ Dead, when there is a life of happiness before us ? ” he 
whispered. “ Marie dearest, at last! You understand ? ” 
he said, after whispering for some time. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said slowly; and he spoke again very 
quickly, but in low, distinct tones. 

“Yes,” she repeated heavily, “I understand.” 

“ Marie ! ” 

“ Lady Henry was taken suddenly ill in one of the rooms, 
Miss Allerton,” said Glen hurriedly. “ Fortunately I was 
there.” 

“ 111,” said Ruth slowly, as she ran to Marie’s side. 
“ Fortunately you were there. Captain Glen, I will see to 
my cousin now. Will you have the goodness to go ? ” 

He raised his hat and slowly walked away. 

“ Marie, Marie,” cried Ruth piteously. “ How could 
you deceive me so ? ” 

“ No, no !” cried Marie excitedly. “ I did not know 
he was here. It was an unexpected meeting. Take me 


She was about to say “ home,” but she could not utter 
the word, and as they walked back Ruth thought of this, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


3*7 


and a hand seemed to compress her heart as she thought 
to herself : 

“ The work of months undone ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

JOHN HUISH GETS BACK PART OF HIS BRAINS. 

More than once during the severe attack of brain-fever 
from which John Huish lay prostrate at Highgate, Dr. 
Stonor compressed his lips and asked himself whether he 
would save his young friend’s life. At such times, as he 
sat by the bedside and gazed in his patient’s face, the linea- 
ments brought back the scene by the pit and his father’s 
agony, as Captain Millet lay apparently dying. 

“ How time has gone ! ” the doctor would mutter, “and 
how like he looks to his father now ! ” 

But a change for the better came at last, and after a long 
and weary convalescence he was once more about, month 
after month gliding by, and the brain refusing to accompany 
the body on its way to health. 

He was very quiet and gentle, but he seemed to have no 
recollection of what had gone by, neither did he evince any 
desire, but passed his time mostly in the doctor’s study, 
where an unrolled mummy had apparently so great an 
attraction for him that he would sit near and watch it hour 
after hour when no one was by. 

u Must get him better first,” the dootor would say. “ I 
can’t run the risk of bringing on a relapse.” 

So John Huish remained in utter ignorance of the fact 
that his young wife had been confined to her bed at the 
gloomy house in Wimpole Street, so prostrated by all she 
had had to pass through, that the doctors called in advised 
total rest and quiet, combined with careful nursing. 
Nothing calculated to excite her was to reach her ears. 
Hence, when in his turn Dr. Stonor called, his lips were 
sealed respecting John Huish’s state; and poor Gertrude 
never mentioned his name. 

After leaving Renee by her sister’s side, the doctor had 
a long chat with his old friend, whose white hand trembled 
as he thrust it forth to be taken by the visitor. 


3i« 


A DOUBLE KNOT, \ 


“ How is she ? ” said the latter. “ Ah, poor girl, she is 
very ill ! ” 

11 But she will get better? Oh, Stonor, don’t flatter me : 
tell me the truth ! ” 

“ Tell you the truth ? — of course I shall ! Well, she’ll 
be better when she gets back to her husband.” 

“ And how is John Huish ? ” and the white hand trembled 
inside the panel, like some leaf agitated by the wind. 

“ He is bad — very bad,” said the doctor. “ I’ve had a 
hard fight with him, for his brain has had some serious 
shock. Poor fellow ! he has been a little queer in the head 
for some time past, and consulted me at intervals, but I 
could make nothing of it. It’s a very obscure case, and I 
would not — I could not believe that there was anything 
more than fancy in his symptoms. But he was right, and 
it seems like a lesson to me not to be too conceited. His 
mind has been very impressionable, and from what I can 
gather he has not been carrying on as he should.” 

“ No, no, I’m afraid not ! ” 

“There was some sad scene with his young wife, I 
suppose.” 

“ Yes, yes, I’m afraid so. The poor child came here 
broken-hearted. Oh, Stonor, I hoped differently ! I liked 
that lad — for her sake. I never saw him, for fear he shbuld 
be like his father ; but the tones of his voice reminded me 
so of his mother, and I quite loved him. Is it in the blood 
of the Huishes that there should be a want of principle in 
all they do ? ” 

“ Can’t say — can’t say,” said the doctor, tapping the 
table with his fingers. “ I liked him, too ; he seemed so 
frank and manly. I’m afraid that there’s something in him, 
a duality, so to speak, and that at certain times in his exist- 
ence he does things of which he has afterwards no know- 
ledge.” 

“ Stonor, I’d give thousands to believe this was so !” 

“ Would you ? ” said the doctor drily; “well, I would 
not. Not very nice for a fellow to be half a madman.” 

“ No, no ! but it is so sad to be deceived in one you 
trusted. Oh, Stonor, mine has been a sad life ! ” 

“ Don’t be foolish,” said the doctor, who had risen and 
reached through the panel to take the trembling hand. “ I 
was only going to say a friendly word to you.” 

“ Pray go on.” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


319 


u I was only going to say that you and I came together 
very strangely." 

“Yes, yes," said the other, with a sigh. “ You saved 
my life." 

“ No, I think not," said the doctor bluntly. “ I only 
attacked your case with all the interest of a young student, 
and pulled you through. Hah, that’s a long time ago, and 
we are getting old men ! " 

“ Yes," said the other bitterly : “ I have not had much 
pleasure in life." 

a Humph, I don’t know ! You had plenty of money — 
and you have done as you like.” 

“ What ! " cried the captain hastily ; “ did I not find 
myself suddenly changed from a shapely, strong man into 
a helpless cripple, and had I not lost all that was dear to 
me on earth ? ’’ 

“ Yes," said the doctor ; “ but you had life and intellect. 
I’m not going to blame you more than usual, but the 
greater part of your sufferings are self-inflicted, and you 
are wasting the fag-end of the life you have in charge." 

“ Yes, yes." 

“ Well, I always think that it was a very insane, morbid 
proceeding, tinged with vanity, to shut yourself up as you 
have done these thirty years.’’ 

“ I took an oath, when I found to what I was reduced, 
that I would never look upon the face of man again, and I 
have kept it." 

“ I should think that you were more likely to be forgiven 
for breaking such an oath than for keeping it," said the 
doctor drily. 

“ But I have kept it ! ’’ said Robert Millet sternly. “ In 
a few short hours I found that I had lost all worth living 
for, and I retired here to die." 

“ Yes,” said the doctor, in his bluff, dry way ; “ but when 
you found that you were so long dying, I think you might 
have done something useful." 

There was no reply to this, and the doctor loosed the 
thin white hand, and began to tap the little ledge by the 
panel. 

“ I wrote down to Huish about his son’s illness," he said 
at last. 

“ Yes : well ? " said the recluse eagerly. 


320 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ He begged me to do all I could. He never leaves his 
room now. Gout or rheumatism has crippled him. Strange 
how things come about with the young people.” 

“Yes ; I’m getting old now, and I wanted to feel full of 
forgiveness towards Huish, and that is why I took to his 
boy. It is hard that matters have turned out as they 
have.” 

“ Very,” said the doctor. “ Well, I’m not going to ad- 
vise, but I should like to know that you had broken your 
oath at last, and let light into your brain as well as into 
your house. Good-bye ; I’ll let you know how John Huish 
gets on.” 

Dr. Stonor went straight to Highgate and found what 
seemed an improvement in his patient, for Huish was sitting 
up ; but he seemed strangely reticent and thoughtful, and 
never asked any questions as to his wife or his relatives, 
but seemed to be dreaming over something with which his 
mind was filled. 

Time passed, and with closely cut hair, and a strange 
sallowness in his complexion, John Huish was up, and had 
been out times enough in the extensive garden, but there 
was a something in his manner that troubled the doctor a 
great deal, and was looked upon by him as a bad symp- 
tom. He was always dreaming over something, and what 
that was he never said. 

Miss Stonor conversed with him, and he was gentle and 
talked rationally. He answered the doctor’s questions 
reasonably enough, and yet as soon as his attention was 
released, he was back again, dreaming over the one thing 
that seemed to trouble his mind. 

“ Will he get well? ” said Miss Selina to the doctor one 
morning. 

“ I’d give something to be able to say,” was the reply. 
“ At times I think not, for I fear the impression upon his 
mind is that he is insane, and if a man believes that of him- 
self, how can we get him to act like one who is sane ? ” 

This was at breakfast time, and the doctor soon after 
went out, leaving an assistant in charge. 

It was a glorious afternoon, and Huish and the three 
patients were out in the garden, where Captain Lawdoi 
was practising throwing biscuits, as he called it, at a stone 
balanced on the end of a stick. Mr. Rawlinson had a table 
out and was writing a series of minutes on railway 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


321 


mismanagement ; and Mr. Roberts was following John 
Huish about as he walked up and down beneath the old 
red-brick wall which separated the garden from the road. 

This went on for a time, and then Mr. Roberts crept 
softly up to Huish, to whom he had not spoken since the 
night of the dinner and said : 

“ I told you not to look at that Egyptian sorcerer. I 
knew it would send you mad.” 

“ Mad ! ” exclaimed Huish, smiling. “ I am not mad.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Mr. Roberts. “ You came here and 
asked the doctor to cure you. No man could do that if 
he were not mad.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” said Huish, looking at him strangely. 
“ I am quite well.” 

Mr. Roberts shook his head. 

“ No, you are not ; I know how you feel, just like a man 
I knew used to feel. He always felt as if he were two ; 
and sometimes he was one, sometimes the other. The 
other was the one the lawyer said was dead. It was so 
sad, too, for her. What have you done with your wife ? '* 

At last ! 

John Huish started as if stung. That was the some- 
thing he had, in a strange secretive way, tried to think of 
for days past — his wife ; and now the mention of her sent 
a shock like that of electricity through his brain. 

He hurried away, and began to walk up and down, grow- 
ing more and more excited. His wife ! Where was she ? 
Yes, he remembered now ; the mist that had shrouded his 
brain was dispelled, and he could think. That something 
like him had been and taken her away, and he was doing 
nothing here. 

With all the cunning of an insane person he became 
very calm all at once, for the doctor’s assistant strolled 
out in the garden just then, walked up to and spoke to him, 
and not seeing any change, went back to the house, while 
glancing sharply round him, John Huish waited for an 
opportunity to put a plan that he had instantly matured into 
operation. 

He had sense enough to know that he should be refused 
if he asked leave to go outside, so walking up and down for 
a few minutes, he suddenly made a run and a bound, 
caught the top of the wall and scrambled up, threw his 
legs over, and dropped down into the lane. 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


.322 

The captain raised a shout, and the assistant came run- 
ning out, but by the time he reached the gate, Huish had 
disappeared, taking as he did a short cut across the fields, 
while the assistant searched the road, and then, after fruit- 
less efforts, hurrying off to the nearest station, and making 
his way to Finsbury Circus. Here he broke the news to the 
doctor, who left him to finish his cases, and, calling Daniel, 
set off as fast as they could go to Westbourne Road, as 
being the most likely point for Huish to make for now he 
was free. 

As soon as he had run sharply across the fields, John 
Huish subsided into a walk, and going along at a pretty 
good pace, made straight for his home. 

To all appearances he was perfectly sane and in his 
right mind ; but there was only one dominant idea there, 
and to fulfil this he was hurrying on. Still there was a 
certain amount of strange caution developed in his acts. 
He seemed to know that there was something wrong with 
him, and that he must be cautious how he spoke to people ; 
and to this end he carefully avoided everyone who ap- 
peared to take the slightest notice of him, till he reached 
Westbourne Road, rang at the bell, and the door was 
answered by his domestic. 

The servants looked at him strangely, but said nothing, 
and he hurried up to his room to try and remove any 
traces that might strike a stranger of his having been lately 
ill. His mind was clear enough for that, and as he hastily 
bathed his face, the cold water refreshed him and he felt 
more himself. 

He was terribly confused, though, at times, and had to 
ask himself why he was there. 

That acted as a touchstone — Gertrude — he had come to 
seek his wife ; he had escaped so that he might find her, 
for the doctor would not let him go. He told him — yes, 
he told him his wife was well, and he should see her soon ; 
but it was a lie to quiet him. That devil had got her — his 
other self. Of course — the servant and the cabman told 
him so; but he must be quiet, or they would stop him. 
Perhaps the doctor had sent after him now. 

He shuddered and gazed about him for a moment as if 
his mind were going beyond his control. Then, mastering 
himself once more, he took up his hat, opened the door, 
and passed out into the road. 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


3 2 3 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

LORD HENRY RECEIVES A TELEGRAM. 

“ I shall be waiting for you this evening at the Channel 
Hotel. It is an easy walk from the square. Ask to be 
shown to No. 99. If you are not there by ten o’clock, 
good-bye ! There will be the report of a pistol heard. 
Without you I can bear my life no longer.” 

Every word burned into her mind, and she seemed to 
be mentally repeating it constantly, even as some familiar 
tune will keep on humming in the brain. 

“ If you are not there by ten o’clock there will be the 
report of a pistol heard.” 

Marie felt that he would keep his word. 

Over and over and over again, with dreary reiteration, 
those words kept recurring, and then, as the day wore on 
and she went to her room, she found herself repeating them 
aloud. 

She bathed her burning temples, but found no relief. 
She threw herself upon a couch, and tried to obtain rest, 
but those words kept on, and she repeated them as if they 
were a lesson, till everything seemed dreamlike and strange, 
and she wondered whether she had really met Glen that 
morning. 

At last she dropped into a feverish, uneasy sleep, the re- 
sult of her weariness, but the words kept on, and she felt 
that she was repeating them as she went straight on to- 
wards a thick darkness, whose meaning she could not 
penetrate. All she knew was that she was irresistibly im- 
pelled towards that darkness, and it made her shudder as 
she drew nearer and nearer, till she felt that her next step 
would be into this strange mystery, when she found her- 
self confronted by Ruth. 

“ Are you ill, dear? ” 

“ No, not ill ; only weary in spirit, dear. There, I am 
better now. But tell me about yourself. Have you seen 
Montaigne lately? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT . 


324 

“ Yes,” said Ruth with a shiver. “ He seems to watch 
and follow us. He was in Piccadilly this morning as we 
came back from the Academy.” 

“ The insolent ! ” said Marie calmly. “ Is it time to 
dress ? ” 

“ Oh no,” cried Ruth, looking curiously at her cousin’s 
ashy face. “ You have been to sleep, and forgotten how 
time goes.” 

“ Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. Let me see, there 
is no one coming to dinner to-night ? ” 

“ No, not to-night,” said Ruth, gazing with wondering 
eyes at her cousin. 

‘ No, no, of course not ! My brain feels hot and con- 
fused to-day. I shall be better soon ! ” 

She rose, and then descended with Ruth to the drawing- 
room, chatting calmly with her over the five o’clock tea, 
and seemed as if she had forgotten the morning’s incident. 
This went on till the dressing-bell rang, when, placing her 
arm round her cousin, she went with her upstairs to their 
several rooms, kissing her affectionately, and bidding her 
not be late. 

Marie looked perfectly calm when they met again in the 
drawing-room, where Lord Henry was awaiting their de- 
scent, and as Ruth entered she saw her cousin half seated 
upon one of the arms of a lounge, resting her soft white 
arm upon her husband’s shoulder as she bent down and 
kissed him tenderly upon the forehead. 

She did not start away, but rose gravely, and directly 
after, dinner was announced, and Lord Henry took Ruth 
down. 

The dinner passed off much as usual. The conversation 
was carried on in the quiet, calm way customary at that 
house, and Lord Henry smiled gravely and pleasantly first 
at one, then at the other, as he retailed to them, in his 
simple, placid manner, some piece of news that he had 
heard at the club, to which Marie listened with her quiet 
deference to her husband, whose slightest word seemed 
always to rouse her to listen. 

When they rose Lord Henry left his chair in the most 
courtly way to open the door for them, Marib drawing 
back for Ruth to pass out first, while she hesitated, before 
placing her arms round her husband’s neck, ohe kissed 
him on his forehead, holding him tightly her for a 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


3 2 5 


moment or two, and then she passed into the hall and be- 
gan to ascend the stairs, looking handsomer than she had 
ever looked to him before, as she went up with the soft 
glow of the lamp shining down upon her pale face. 

As she reached the first landing she smiled back at him 
in a strange way, hesitating for a moment or two before 
passing out of his sight. 

“ God bless her ! ” said the old man, with tears in his 
eyes. “ I wish I was years younger — for her sake.” 

He returned to his chair, poured out his customary 
glass of port-wine, and sat sipping it in a calm, satisfied 
spirit. So happy and at rest did he feel, that, for a 
wonder, he finished that glass and poured out another, 
which he held up to the light and examined with all the air 
of a connoisseur. 

Then sip after sip followed, with the dark ancestral 
paintings seeming to look down warningly at him from the 
wall, till he finished that second glass and began to doze. 
Then the doze came to an abrupt conclusion, and his lord- 
ship started up, for he thought he heard the closing of a 
door, but his eyelids dropped lower and lower till they 
were shut, and this time he slept deeply — so deeply that he 
did not hear the butler enter with his cup of coffee, which 
the old servitor placed softly upon the table, and then went 
out. 


“ Eh ? What?” exclaimed Lord Henry, starting up. 

“ Beg pardon for waking your lordship,” said the butler, 
holding out a silver salver, upon which was a reddish- 
brown envelope ; “ but here is a telegram.” 

“ Telegram ? Bless me ! ” exclaimed the old man, 
fumbling in rather a confused way for his glasses. “ I 
hope — nothing wrong ! ” 

His hands trembled as he opened the envelope and took 
out the message, while as he read the pencilled words his 
jaw dropped, and the old butler took a step forward. 

“ My lord ! ” 

These words brought him to himself. 

“ That will do, Thompson. I will ring.” 

The old butler glanced at him uneasily, but obeyed, and 
then Lord Henry, with palsied hand, held the sham teler 
gram to the lamp and read pnce more : 


326 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“From Smith, West Strand. 

“ To Lord Henry Moorpark, 

“ 300, St. James’ Square. 

“ If you care for your honor, follow her ladyship. She has gone to 
keep an appointment at Channel Hotel.” 

He crushed the paper in his hand, and caught at the 
table for support. 

Then he recovered, and drew himself up proudly. 

“ It is a lie — a scandal ! ” he said in a hoarse whisper. 
“ The dog who could send that slur against my wife 
deserves to be hung ! ” 

He tottered slightly at first as he walked, but he kept 
snatching himself together, twitching his head and crushing 
the paper more tightly in his hand, as he went slowly 
towards the door. 

He would not hurry, he was too proud and full of trust 
and belief in Marie for that ; and thrusting the telegram 
into his pocket, he preserved his usual leisurely way, 
touching the bell for the dessert to be cleared away, 
throwing open the door, and giving his customary cough 
as he crossed the hall before mounting the handsome 
staircase, step by step, where Marie had turned when she 
left him a short time before. 

The old man held his head up more and more erect as 
he went on, and when the butler came from below in 
answer to the bell, he noted that his lordship was humming 
in a low voice a snatch of an air that was often played in 
the square by the organs. 

He was too chivalrous to believe the message, and in the 
calmest manner possible he placed his hand upon the door- 
knob, turned it, entered the softly-lit drawing-room, closed 
the door in his usual gentle way, and crossed towards 
Marie’s chair, where she would be seated by the steaming 
urn, with Ruth reading aloud as was her wont. 

“ I have been thinking, my dear ” he said. 

Then he stopped, perfectly calm, though both chairs 
were empty, and his lips quivered slightly. 

“ It is a lie — a cruel lie ! God bless her ! I’ll not 
believe it ! ” 

He muttered this as he went on, and was about to 
ring the bell, when he hesitated. Should he? — should he 
not ? 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


3 2 7 


It would be braver and better to do so, he thought, and 
would show his calm confidence to his servants. 

But why should he trouble them ? Poor sweet ! her 
head had been aching a good deal that day, she said, and 
she had gone to lie down. Ruth perhaps was with her. 
He would go up and see. 

He went slowly up to the bedroom — tapped ; there was 
no answer, and he softly entered, to find the lights 
burning and something white upon the toilet-table — some- 
thing white that caught his eye on the instant, and invol- 
untarily he said : 

“ A note ! ” 

Of course — a note to explain why she was not there. 

He glanced at himself in the long cheval-glass that had 
so often reflected the form of his beautiful wife. His face 
was very pale, but he could see that he looked perfectly 
cool and collected as he crossed to the toilet-table and took 
up the note. 

He raised his glasses, and saw that it was open — a note 
directed in a feminine hand to Lady Henry Moorpark. 

The note fell from his fingers and a frown gathered on 
his brow as, after a few moments’ hesitation, he walked 
rapidly out of the chamber and down into the drawing-room, 
where he rang the bell, and a footman came to the call. 

“ Has her ladyship gone out, Robert ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ And Miss Allerton ? ” 

a Yes, my lord.” 

“ Did they have the carriage ? ” 

“ No, my lord ; Miss Allerton went out directly after 
dinner, and her ladyship went soon after.” 

“ That will do.” 

The man left the room, and Lord Henry stood for a few 
minutes gazing straight before him, and with a strangely 
stern aspect in his face. 

Love and chivalry were fighting hard with ordinary 
worldliness, and it was a question which would win. 

“ I ought to go,” he said at last — “ I will go. Heaven 
knows that I do not — that I will not doubt her ; but she is 
not here, and it is very strange. I will go.” 

He went downstairs, all in the most calm and deliberate 
way, as if everything depended upon his being perfectly 
cool, and after ringing for one of the servants, he was 


328 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


helped on with his light overcoat, his hat and gloves were 
handed to him, his black cane with its crutch handle, and 
he went quietly out into the square. He raised his cane 
as a hansom cab came by, got in, and was driven to the 
Channel Hotel, where he paid and dismissed the man. 

An attendant was in the vestibule as he entered, and, 
beckoning to the man, he placed a half-sovereign in his 
hand, a feeling of shrinking ever on the increase, and the 
shame making him hesitate as he asked whether two ladies 
had come there since eight or nine o’clock. 

“ Two ladies without luggage ? Yes, sir. And a gentle- 
man. In Number 99, sir.” 

Lord Henry hesitated again, for love and chivalry 
seemed to throw themselves in his way to prevent him 
from doing what he told himself was a mean action. 

But he felt that he must go on now, and, going a little 
closer to the man, he said : 

“ Take me up at once, and show me in without 
announcing my name.” 

The man nodded, and led him up the great staircase, 
passing what seemed to be innumerable rooms before 
stopping at one where he waited for his lordship to come 
close up before throwing open the door for him to enter. 

The telegram was right so far : Lady Henry Moorpark 
was there, but she was in company with Ruth. 

So far good ; but Captain Marcus Glen, her old lover, 
was present, and Mr. Paul Montaigne. 

Marie sank into the nearest chair. Paul Montaigne 
caught Ruth by the wrist, and whispered a few words ; 
while, on seeing who had come, Marcus Glen stepped 
boldly forward, and seemed ready to defend the woman he 
loved. 

“ Be silent,” whispered Montaigne — “ not a word ! 
Your only hope now is to cling to me.” 

“ May I ask what is the meaning of this meeting, Lady 
Henry ? ” asked his lordship. “ I had a telegram advising 
me to come here, and I find you in company with Captain 
Glen.” 

“ Who came to meet me, Lord Henry,” cried Ruth, 
flinging off Montaigne’s grasp and clinging to Glen’s arm. 

Glen directed one glance at Marie, who had turned from 
him, and was standing with knitted brow, half-closed eyes, 
and blanched face, crushed down as it were by her shame, 


A DOUBLE KNOT, \ 


3 2 9 


and with all a soldier’s quickness of decision he determined 
to try and save her. 

“ Let me explain, Lord Henry — Lady Henry,” said 
Glen quickly. “ I am to blame for this clandestine 
meeting. Lady Henry, you meant weil by your pursuit, 
but you cannot alter matters now. Ruth accepts me as her 
husband, and nothing but force would take her away. If 
I have spoken too plainly, you must forgive me. Once 
more, I am to blame.” 

“Well acted,” muttered Montaigne. “ Now, my Lady 
Marie, it is your turn now.” 

But Marie stood as if stunned. 

“ This is fine, heroic language, Captain Glen,” said Lord 
Henry ; “ may I ask to how many ladies you have used it 
before ? ” 

“ 1 deserve your sarcasm, my lord,” said Glen ; “ but 
there comes a time to every man when he feels that he is 
in earnest. I am in earnest now.” 

“ If, sir, you are in earnest, why did you not make your 
advances like a gentleman ? ” 

“ One moment,” interposed Montaigne, who had now 
recovered himself, and stood with a smile upon his lip ; 
“ Lord Henry, I have been protector, tutor to these ladies 
from their childhood : I wish to say a few words to 
Captain Glen.” 

Lord Henry bowed. 

“ Ruth, my child,” continued Montaigne, “ leave Cap- 
tain Glen for a few minutes.” 

She shrank from him with such a look of revulsion that 
the rage in his breast flamed up again, and his craftiness 
for the moment failed. 

“ Now, sir,” said Glen sternly, and he looked menacingly 
at the man whom he blamed for the frustration of that 
night’s plans. # 

“ You have cleverly hoodwinked the poor old fool 
amongst you,” whispered Montaigne, “ but you have not 
blinded me. I have a prior claim to Miss Allerton’s hand, 
and I tell you this,” he cried, his rage making him tremble, 
“ that after this*" night, if you so much as approach her 
again, I’ll expose Marie to her husband — I’ll tell him all.” 

Glen glanced at Marie, who was talking in a low voice 
to Lord Henry, while, suffering now from the reaction, 
Ruth had sunk into a chair, trembling at what she had 
dared to do. 


33 ° 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ You understand,” continued Montaigne, upon whose 
forehead the veins stood out. “ That is my price for 
silence. Ruth is mine, or I drag that woman into the 
dust.” 

He stood there with his face thrust forward, his hands 
clenched, and a fiercely vindictive look in his eyes, while 
Glen seemed to be weighing his position, but he was not. 
He let his eyes wander from Montaigne to Lord Henry. 
Then he glanced at Ruth, who for a moment met his gaze 
with a piteous, appealing glance, before flushing deeply, 
and drooping in very shame. 

“ Heaven bless her, she is too good for me ! ” thought 
Glen ; “ but before this scoundrel should lay hands upon 
her ” 

“ You understand me,” reiterated Montaigne; “now 
go.” 

“ Understand you ! ” whispered Glen ; and as he spoke 
he laid one hand sharply on Montaigne’s shoulder, clutch- 
ing him in so fierce a grip that he caused intense pain. 
“Yes ; now understand me.” 

Montaigne glared at him, and he suffered acutely, but 
he did not wince. 

“ You have uttered your threats : now hear mine. That 
lady’s reputation is in your hands.” 

“ Is this all ? ” said Montaigne defiantly. 

“ No,” whispered Glen, placing his face close to Mon- 
taigne’s ; “ I have not read your death-sentence ; betray 
us, and I will kill you, so help me God ! ” 

The two men were glaring at each other, and by degrees, 
as Montaigne’s face grew of a sickly, leaden hue, his eyelids 
drooped, and he shrank away. 

Glen crossed to Ruth and took her hand. 

“ Heaven bless you ! ” he whispered. “ I dare not say 
more to you now. I am not worthy, Ruth. Would I were 
a better man ! Be kind to her, for she wants your aid.” 

She did not speak, but stood there trembling, till he led 
her to Lord Henry. 

“Will you take her, sir?” he said. “You will not 
refuse her a home for what has occurred ? ” 

If Lord Henry Moorpark had felt any hesitation, it was 
chased away by the action of his wife, who caught her 
cousin to her heart. 

“ Some day, Lady Henry-Lord Henry,” continued ' 
Glen, “ I will come as a gentleman, and ask that the past 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


33 r 


may be forgotten, and that Ruth Allerton may be my wife. 
Mr. Montaigne ” 

He signed toward the door, and vainly trying to resist 
the stem eyes fixed upon him, Montaigne led the way, and 
was followed out. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 
a woman’s work. 

Directly after leaving the dinner-table Ruth set herself to 
watch her cousin, asking herself the while what course she 
had better pursue. 

At times she thought she would speak to Lord Henry, 
but she shrank from such an exposure. Marie would 
perhaps be saved from the step she evidently contemplated, 
but at what a cost ! Her husband’s confidence would be 
for ever gone, and the old man’s happiness at an end. 

Marie was very pale, but there was a red spot burning 
in either cheek, and as Ruth watched her she could see a 
deep frown upon her brow, while from time to time she 
pressed her hand upon her breast as if to still the beatings 
of her heart. 

Then came those words she had heard Marie mutter 
perfectly distinctly in her unquiet sleep — the room she was 
to ask for at the Channel Hotel ; the threat Marcus Glen 
had uttered respecting his action if she did not come ; and 
as Ruth sat there in the terrible silence of the large drawing- 
room she felt that if she did not do something at once the 
strain upon her mind would be more than she could bear. 

All at once Marie gave a start, and drew in her breath 
as if in sudden pain. She seemed to forget the presence of 
Ruth, and, rising, walked quickly to the mantelpiece, 
pressing her hair back from her forehead, while taking 
advantage of her back being turned, Ruth glided softly into 
the smaller drawing-room, which was in comparative 
darkness. 

The idea had come at last. It seemed reckless and wild, 
but she knew that it was useless to appeal to Marie. She 
would go herself to Marcus Glen. He was noble-hearted 
and true. There was a simple manliness in his nature that 


332 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


made her hope, and she would kneel and appeal to him to 
spare her cousin, to pause before he wrecked the happiness 
of the good, chivalrous old man who trusted his wife in the 
pride and nobleness of his heart. 

“I shall be too late,” thought Ruth; and, wound up 
now to a pitch of excitement which seemed to urge her to 
act, she softly turned the handle of the door, glided out, 
and without stopping to close it, ran up to her room. 

Money she had, and in a very few minutes she had 
dressed herself for her task, and, closely veiled, she stepped 
softly to the door. 

It opened silently, and she was about to glide down- 
stairs, when she heard a faint rustle, and, drawing back, 
she peered through the nearly closed door, and saw Marie 
come up the stairs and enter her room. 

Nerving hhrself for her task, she stepped out, and softly 
passed Marie’s room, hesitated for a moment as she heard 
a door close downstairs, and the servants’ voices ascending 
— all else was still in the great mansion ; and as quickly as 
she could she ran past the drawing-room door and down 
into the hall, where she stopped and clung to the great 
coil of the balustrade for support. 

Her heart had failed her. There was that great dark 
door to pass, just beyond which, at the foot of the table, 
she knew Lord Henry was seated with his decanter and 
glass before him. 

But just then a slight sound somewhere upstairs 
brought back the memory of Marie’s face, and, hesitating 
no longer, she stepped quickly to the frontdoor ; her hand 
was upon the lock, and then she felt as if she were turned 
to ice, for the voice of the old butler said respectfully : 

“ I will open it, ma’am.” 

He had been seated in the great hall-porter’s chair wait- 
ing for his lordship to leave the dining-room, and he now 
swung open the wide door for her to pass out. 

She went down the two or three steps, feeling like one in 
a dream, wondering, though, whether the butler would go 
and tell Lord Henry that she had gone out, and feeling 
each moment, as she hurried along the pavement, that 
someone was about to place a hand upon her shoulder and 
bid her stay. 

Her mouth felt dry, her breath came fast, and the throb 
of her pulses was painful; but she was on her way to the 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


333 

place of rendezvous, and it was to save those she loved 
from ruin. 

There were wheels behind, and she stopped instinctively 
and looked round. It was an empty cab, and, taking this 
as a signal, the driver drew rein. Ruth mechanically 
stepped in, and then started as the little trap above her 
was opened, and the driver asked where to drive. 

“ Channel Hotel/’ came mechanically from her lips, 
and in her agitation it only seemed a minute before she 
was in front of the great entrance. 

“ Take me to No. 99,” she said as indifferently as she 
could, and a waiter led the way. 

She trembled so that she could hardly proceed, for the 
idea was horrible. What did she hear Marie say? Was 
it No. 99, at this hotel? 

She was not sure now, and she felt faint and giddy as she 
followed the man upstairs, and along a wide corridor. 

Should she ask him to stop? She dare go no farther, 
and her lips moved to stay him, when he paused by a 
door. Before she could find breath to speak or power of 
utterance, he tapped lightly, and she heard him say : 

“A lady to see you, sir.” 

There was the noise of a chair pushed quickly back, and 
a heavy tread upon the carpet as she entered, moved, it 
seemed to be, by some power that was not her own. Then 
as the door closed behind her she saw that she was right, 
for, exclaiming loudly, “ Marie I my darling ! ” Glen 
caught her in his arms. 

“ Captain Glen ! ” 

Ruth struggled indignantly from him, and snatched off 
her veil. 

He staggered back. 

“ Ruth ! you here ? ” he cried. 

“ Yes. I was compelled to come. Marie — my cousin 

Lady Henry Oh, Captain Glen ! ” 

“ Is she ill ? ? Has she sent you ? Do you know ? ” he 
whispered hoarsely. 

“ She has not sent me,” cried Ruth. “ She does 
not know I have come. Oh, Captain Glen ! ” she cried, 
sobbing violently as she threw herself upon her knees and 
clasped his feet, “for heaven’s sake, spare her ! Do not 
bring down such misery upon that home.” 

“ Ruth, my child, hush ! for heaven’s sake ! ” 


334 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ No, no, no, no,” sobbed Ruth, and she went on inco- 
herently as she clung to his feet: “ You are not thinking 
of the horror of your crime. You do not lo T 'e her— you 
cannot care for her, or you would not drive her to this 
terrible sin.” 

“ Not love her — Marie ? Is she coming ? ” 

“I pray heaven, no,” said Ruth simply. “I would 
sooner see her dead.” 

“ Then I will go and fetch her,” cried Glen, furious with 
disappointment. “ I will not bear it; I cannot bear it. 
I’ll tear her away from him — but no,” he said bitterly, “ I 
promised something else, and I know she will come.” 

“ Is this Marcus Glen ? ” said Ruth simply, as she 
remained there upon her knees ; “is this the man whom I 
told Marie was the soul of truth and honor ? ” 

“ No ; it is the poor deluded, wretched man who has 
been twice tricked and cozened of his love. It is useless ; 
I cannot, I will not listen to you ! ” 

“ You shall ! ” she cried, springing to her feet. “ You 
shall go away from here, for she shall not leave her home 
for you. I would die sooner than see this shame brought 
upon her. Coward ! to force me, a mere girl, to speak to 
you as I do ! Oh, it is cruel, it is shameful, and yet you 
talk of love ? ” 

“ Hush ! ” he cried, as she stood before him, flushed with 
her indignation ; “ what do you know of love? ” 

“ That there is no such thing, if it is to bring shame and 
disgrace on a weak woman, and death and dishonor upon 
a good, confiding man. Oh, where is God, that He does 
not strike you dead for even thinking such a cruel wrong ! 
— Marie, Marie, you shall not go ! ” 

For as she spoke in the anger and bitterness of her heart, 
the door opened, and, veiled and in a large black cloak, 
Marie glided in, to shrink cowering away in horror and 
shame, holding up her hands to keep Ruth off, but in vain, 
for the girl flung her arms round her, and then turned her 
head, so as to face Glen. 

“ You here, Ruth ! ” 

“ Yes, to save you from this shame. Oh, Marie, think of 
dear Lord Henry ! ” she cried passionately ; “ think of the 
disgrace, the horror and remorse to come ! ” 

“ I have thought till I can think no more,” moaned Marie. 
“ Oh, Ruth, Ruth, why did you come ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


335 

“ In heaven’s name, yes ! Why did you come? ” cried 
Glen fiercely, as he tried to tear the couple apart. 

“ No ; keep off ! ” cried Ruth. “ I have told you why : 
because I would not stand by and be a witness of this shame.” 

“ But, Ruth, you do not know ; you cannot tell. It is 
too late now.” 

“ I tell you it is not too late ! ” 

“ Yes, my child, it is,” said a low, soft voice; and there 
stood Paul Montaigne, with his calm aspect and bland 
smile. “ It is too late ; the step is taken by you, Ruth, as 
well as by Marie here. Captain Glen, I will see that Miss 
Allerton comes to no harm.” 

“ By what right do you intrude ? ” cried Glen hotly. 

“ The right of an old protector of these ladies,” said 
Montaigne, smiling. “ There, do not be angry, my dear 
sir. I come as a friend. Their interests have been mine 
for so many years that I, knowing something of the tender 
passion myself, can sympathize with all. Mind, I do not 
counsel flight, and if I had been consulted I should not* 
have hesitated to stop you ; but as you have taken the 
irrevocable step, all I can say is — go, get the divorce over 
as soon as possible, and then I insist upon your marrying 
my darling ward.” 

“ Of course, of course ! ” 'cried Glen angrily. “ Marie, 
my love,” he whispered, “ come.” 

“ No, no ! ” cried Ruth, interposing, and clinging to her 
cousin’s arm. “ Marie dear, you will come back ? ” 

Marie looked at her in a piteously helpless fashion, and 
shook her head. 

“ My dearest Ruth,” said Montaigne, “your interference 
is ill-timed. You are fighting against fate. Come, come ! 
I know it seems very dreadful to you, but you must let 
matters have their course.” 

He advanced to take her hand, but she shrank from him 
with horror. 

“ No, no ! ” she cried. “ Why do not you interfere ? ” 

“Captain Glen, your train must be nearly due.” 

“And Ruth?” said Glen, hesitating. “Will you see 
her back? ” 

“ Hardly,” said Montaigne, smiling. “ She cannot 
return there ; but you can rest content if she is under my 
charge. Recollect, sir, I have known her almost from a 
child.” 


33 * 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Mr. Montaigne is right ; you are fighting against the 
irrevocable. The step is taken, and Marie cannot return. 
Now, for all our sakes, pray go ! ” 

“ With Mr. Montaigne ? ” cried Ruth excitedly. “ No ; 
I will not go ; and I will not leave Marie ! ” 

“ Then, in heaven’s name, go with us ! ” 

“ No ! ” said Montaigne fiercely ; “ Ruth goes with me ! ” 
“ Marcus Glen — Marie — I claim your protection from 
this man !” cried Ruth excitedly. 

“ Then you shall come ! ” cried Glen. “ Marie, be firm,” 
he whispered. “ Now, Mr. Montaigne — you hear Miss 
Allerton’s decision ; stand aside ! ” 

“ Miss Allerton stays with me ! ’* said Montaigne firmly ; 
and, in place of giving way, he stepped forward, and an 
angry collision seemed imminent, when the door was once 
more thrown open, and Lord Henry Moorpark, looking 
blanched and old, came into the room. 

Ruth had gained her end. 


CHAPTER XL. 

FACE TO FACE. 

John Huish’s brain was still confused. At times he was 
ready to give way to the idea that he must be quite mad, 
and at such times he had a dire mental struggle to master 
the wild rush of thoughts so that he might get one upper- 
most and let it have due course — that one wild idea that he 
must bring himself face to face with the fiend who mocked 
his existence, had tortured him for years, and who lived in 
his semblance ; and he felt in no wise surprised, as he passed 
down the road, at seeing himself, dressed exactly as he then 
was, turn suddenly out of a side-street and walk rapidly 
towards the house he had just left. 

“ At last ! ” he said beneath his breath ; and he drew 
back into a garden to avoid being seen. 

He was in no wise surprised either, as, with the cunning 
of a madman, he watched till his semblance went straight 
up to the house and knocked ; and, feeling that he would 
enter, Huish stole slowly out of his hiding-platfe and fol- 
lowed. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


337 


“ Trapped ! ” he said in a low voice. “ Only room for 
one of us in this little world.” 

His teeth grated together, his fingers were tightly 
clenched, and he crept on towards the gateway of his house, 
hidden by the tall privet hedge within the railings, and 
reached the entry just as his semblance came back from the 
door frowning and savage with disappointment at the result 
of his quest of her who had disappeared just as he had 
triumphed in his heart over a long-cherished idea of revenge. 

The two men were face to face ; and with a cry of savage 
delight John Huish sprang at his semblance’s throat, but to 
be met by a blinding flash and a tremendous blow which 
sent him staggering back, clutching vainly at the railings 
before he fell upon the pavement and rolled over and over 
half stunned. 

He sprang to his feet, though, and gnashed his teeth with 
rage as he looked up and down and saw that a couple of 
the very few people about, alarmed by the shot, were 
coming to his assistance, but him he sought was gone. 

Before anyone could reach him, John Huish had started 
off running hard to the bottom of the road, chancing which 
way the man he hunted had gone, and was just in time to 
see him enter a hansom, to be rapidly driven off. 

Running pretty quickly, he became aware that he was ex- 
citing attention, and, remembering his appearance, he sub- 
sided into a slower pace, for another cab was on ahead, 
and he hailed it just in time. 

“ Follow that hansom ! ” he cried to the man as he leaped 
in. “ Double fare.” 

The horse sprang forward, and to his great satisfaction 
he saw that he gained upon the fugitive, so he sat back 
patiently waiting, with the determination now to hunt him 
down. 

Mad or sane, there was but one thought still in John 
Huish’s brain, and that was to get this fiend, this haunting 
demon, by the throat. Whether he was human or some, 
strange creature from another world, he had ceased now 
to speculate ; his head had been troubled with too much 
stress. All he felt was that they two could not exist 
together upon earth : that was his evil half, and he must 
kill it. 

Once or twice a thrill of mad rage made his nerves 
tingle, for he seemed to see Gertrude resting lovingly in 

22 


33 « 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


the other’s arms, responding to his caresses, smiling in his 
face, and blessing him with her love ; and at such moments 
his brain whirled like one of the wheels that spun by his 
side. 

The sight of the cab in front drove these thoughts away, 
though, and, clenching his teeth, he shook his head as if to 
clear his brain for the one object in view. 

And now, for the first time, he became aware of a strange 
pain, and of something warm trickling down beside his 
ear, and putting up his hand, he withdrew it covered with 
blood. x 

“ He could not kill me,” he muttered, taking out his 
handkerchief and applying it to where the bullet had struck 
the top of his head and glanced off, making a deep cut 
which bled freely. 

He did not know it then, but it was the one thing for 
which he had reason to thank the man he pursued. Though 
sent with a mission to destroy, it was the saving of his life. 

On still through the crowded streets, which were empty 
to John Huish, for he saw nothing but the cab before him. 
As in his then wild state there seemed to be room in the 
world for but one of them two, so in his vision there was 
room but for the single object he pursued. 

There were turnings and checks, and more than once the 
cab was nearly lost ; but the driver he had knew his work, 
and twice over, when Huish was about to leap out and con- 
tinue the pursuit on foot, there was the cab on ahead. 

Over a bridge, and then down a turning for a short cut. 
Yes, he must be making for Waterloo Station ; and as 
Huish sprang out he saw the man he sought at the ticket- 
office, and darted towards him. 

The fugitive looked round in the act of taking his ticket, 
saw the wild face of Huish, and turned and fled, with his 
pursuer, hunting him like a dog, close upon his heels. 

Without a moment’s hesitation on reaching the platform, 
he ran to the right, doubled back along the next, leaped 
down on the line, crossed it, reached the next platform, 
doubled again in and out, amidst the shouts of the porters, 
passed through a tangle of trains and empty carriages, and 
so reached again another platform, before glancing back to 
find Huish doggedly on his track. 

A wild, strange look of horror came into his face as he 
glanced around him, seeking which way to go, and for the 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


339 


moment he made for the way down to the waterside by 
Hungerford Bridge ; but a train was on the point of starting 
— not the one for which he had taken a ticket, but any- 
where would do, so that he could get away from the mad 
man who hunted him like fate. 

He dashed to the gate just as it was closed, and the stern 
official uttered the words, “ Too late.” 

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that John Huish 
was within ten yards, and half a dozen porters in pursuit. 
Had he possessed the presence of mind now to face him, 
he had but to say, “ This is an escaped lunatic,” to see 
Huish secured. 

But his nerve was gone, and in his horror he glanced 
wildly from place to place, ran a few yards, dashed through 
another gate, and ran along another platform just as the 
train was gliding away by the next. 

Shouts and orders to stop reached him, but they fell upon 
ears that heard nothing, and, boldly leaping down at the 
end of the platform, he ran along the line, caught the 
handle of one of the carriages about the middle of the train, 
and climbed on to the footboard. 

“ Safe ! ” he muttered. “ Curse him ! he is a devil in- 
carnate ! ” 

As he spoke he climbed into the compartment, which 
proved to be empty ; and then, with a smile of triumph, he 
thrust his head out of the window to gaze back at his dis- 
comfited pursuer ; for the engine was now rapidly gather- 
ing speed, and being one of the long distance trains, it 
would probably run ten or a dozen miles without stopping. 

As he looked out, though, his eyes became fixed and his 
teeth chattered together with horror, for there, far back, 
standing on the footboard of the guard’s break, was John 
Huish, and as the young men’s eyes met there was a strange 
kind of fascination which held the fugitive to the window, 
while his pursuer seemed to come nearer and nearer till 
their eyes almost touched. 

Occurring as these incidents did on the off side of the 
train, they had not been seen by the guard, who was in 
profound ignorance of what had taken place, while the 
officials at the terminus gave him the credit of seeing the 
strange passengers, and taking such steps as were necessary 
at the first stopping station. But he saw nothing till, 
looking out, about a couple of miles down the line, he 


340 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


saw John Huish standing on the footboard, and the next 
minute he entered the brake. 

To the guard’s remarks there was no reply, and finding 
himself in company with a wild-looking man, with closely 
cut hair, his head bleeding, and who paid no heed to his 
words, he was about to check the train ; but as his hand 
was stretched out to the wheel that bore the line, John 
Huish’seyes blazed up and he shrank back, afraid to enter 
into an encounter with one on whom he looked upon as mad. 

“ Where do you stop first? said Huish at last. 

“ Bulter Lane,” replied the man, naming a station some 
fourteen miles down the line; and John Huish was silent 
during the half-hour’s run, while the guard kept glancing 
anxiously out at the stations they passed, and longed for 
help to rid him of his strange companion. 

They were over two miles from their destination when, 
before he could arrest him, the guard saw Huish, who had 
been leaning out of the window first on one side then on 
the other, suddenly open the door, step down and leap 
from the train. 

“ Why, there’s another ! ” he cried, looking out. “ I 
wonder they haven’t broken their necks.” 

Had he been gazing out as the train ran on through the 
pretty country place, he would have seen the fugitive, after 
anxiously looking ahead, suddenly step down upon the 
footboard, leap forward, stagger as his feet touched the 
ballast, and then go down on hands and knees ; but to 
get up and begin walking fast to the boundary hedge, which 
he crossed just as John Huish also took his leap from the 
train, alighted in safety, and once more began the pursuit. 

“ Why, the hunt’s t’other way on,” cried the guard 
excitedly, as he looked back. “ Madman’s hunting his 
keeper, I think, and he’ll have him too,” he added, as the 
train thundered rapidly along, and they glided into the 
station, his last glimpse of the two strange passengers 
being as they ran across a meadow nearly two miles back. 
He gave information to the stationmaster, and two or three 
passengers who had seen the fugitive leave the carriage, 
and whose destination this proved to be, set off at a trot 
in the direction taken by the hunted man, while, after 
telling the engine-driver and stoker that it was a rum start, 
the guard resumed his place and the train continued its 
way. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


34 1 


It was a desperate leap, but in the dread which had 
seized him, the fugitive would have taken one of greater 
danger, for something seemed to tell him that he was 
fleeing from death, and that death was the stronger of the 
two. 

He fell heavily, and cut his knees and hands upon the 
rough stones, but he was up again, leaped the hedge beside 
the lane, and was hurrying across the meadow in the hope 
that Huish would not miss him until he reached the next 
station. 

Glancing back, though, when he had run some fifty 
yards, he uttered a shriek that was like that of a frightened 
woman, for he could see Huish passing the hedge, and 
now he knew it was a trial of speed and endurance. 

“ He’ll kill me,” he cried hoarsely, as with trembling 
hands he pulled out the revolver from his breast, and, 
thrusting a hand into his pockets, sought for a cartridge 
to replace that which he had fired ; but his fingers refused 
their office ; and giving up the task, he ran on, across 
meadow after meadow, checked by the hedges, and aiming 
afterwards at the gates. 

A grim smile overspread his face as, after about a mile 
had been covered, he glanced back to see that he was the 
faster of the two, and, aiming for the open country, he 
pressed on. 

“I shall tire him out,” he muttered as he toiled on, feel- 
ing disposed to throw away the revolver, but fearing to 
part with what might be the means of saving his life. 

The country was wooded and park-like ; and with a 
strange perversity he sought the open, when he might have 
obtained help had he sought the nearest village. It was 
as if, in this time of peril, he, the clever and scheming, 
ready-witted man, had lost all command over his actions, 
and every nerve seemed concentrated upon the sole thought 
of fleeing from his pursuer. 

They were too far ahead in their start to be seen by the 
porters who ran up the line from the station, and then fol- 
lowed their footprints across the meadows, so that there 
were no. witnesses to the savage, relentless pursuit of the 
one, and the blind, terror-stricken flight of the other. 

The pursued was right: unchecked by illness and con- 
finement he was the swifter of the two, gradually placing 
more distance between himself and his pursuer ; but he 


342 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


had not calculated upon the latter’s stern determination. 

For after a few minutes, in place of exerting himself to 
overtake his quarry, John Huish settled down into a steady 
plodding run, husbanding his strength, and contented to 
keep his double in sight. 

A few minutes later, as he still kept his eyes upon the 
man ahead, he slipped off his coat and steadily ran on, 
easier now that he was freed from this encumbrance. 

A mile was covered, then more slowly another, and now 
the exertions of pursuer and pursued showed in the slug- 
gish pace at which they toiled on. Huish’s face was black 
with the heat, and the veins in his forehead were starting, 
his breath came thick and fast, and now dragging off his 
vest, collar, and tie, one by one, he threw them aside, and 
seeming to nerve himself as he saw his enemy stagger in 
his track, he increased his pace. 

Fields were everywhere, save that in the distance were 
the spires of churches. At the end of a couple of hundred 
more yards they came suddenly upon a wide expanse of 
undulating common-land, dotted with clumps of Scotch 
firs, and tufts of gorse and bracken, offering plenty of 
places of concealment to a hunted man, could he but 
reach one unseen. 

But Huish was too close, while now the endurance was 
telling over speed, and as, like a hunted hare, the pursued 
glanced back with wild and starting eyes, he could see 
that his pursuer was gaining steadily, and the distance 
between them becoming short. 

The afternoon sun cast long shadows, and glorified the 
golden gorse and bronzed the dark-green pines. 

Ever and again a rabbit scuttled away to its safe sanc- 
tuary in the sandy earth, and turned as if to gaze pityingly 
at the hunted stranger. Now and then, too, a blackbird 
darted away, uttering its alarm note, while high overhead 
in the peaceful arch of heaven a lark sent forth its trill of 
joy and peace. 

Peace, while war to the death was in preparation for 
enactment by those two men, who, with blood-shot eyes, 
hot, dry tongues, and hoarse breathing, stumbled on over 
the heath and gorse ! All round was a scene of silent 
beauty, such as the wild parts of Surrey can display in the 
greatest perfection ; but bird, wild-flower, the mellow 
afternoon sunshine, all were as naught to John Huish, 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


343 


who saw but the tottering figure some forty yards ahead, 
and with his chest seeming to be aflame, the foam at his 
lip, and the taste of hot blood in his mouth, he toiled on. 

“ I can go no farther ! ” panted the man he pursued, as, 
after wildly looking round for help, he made for a clump 
of firs, to one of which he clung as if to steady himself as 
he laid the pistol against the trunk and fired, while his 
pursuer was twenty yards away. 

The bullet whizzed by John Huish’s head as he came 
on, and there was another report and the strange singing 
noise of a second bullet, but he pressed on unharmed. 
His bloodshot eyes were fixed upon the half-hidden figure 
by the fir-tree, now not ten yards away — now not five, as 
there was a flash, a report, and a jerking feeling in his left 
arm. 

The next moment the hunted man had dropped the 
pistol and turned to flee, running amongst the trees to 
where there was a hollow beneath a bank of yellow sand, 
capped with golden broom, and here he crouched, half 
turned away, thrusting one arm into a rabbit burrow, 
pressing himself against the crumbling soil, and literally 
shrieking in a wild hoarse way as might some rat that has 
been hunted into a corner where there is no escape. 

As Huish came at him he made another effort to flee, 
running a few yards, shrieking still in his agony of fear, 
more like some wild creature than a man. Then in his 
horror he faced round just as, gathering up his remaining 
strength, Huish sprang at his breast and they fell, the 
latter lying upon his enemy’s chest with his hands feebly 
clasping his throat. 

“ At last ! ” he panted with a savage laugh, and then lay 
helpless. He had overtaken his enemy, the creature who 
had blasted his life, maddened him, and robbed him of his 
fame and all he loved, and now he was helpless as a child. 

For a time there was the hoarse panting of their labored 
breath, and the eyes of the two men alone engaged in 
deadly strife ; their limbs were completely paralyzed. The 
sun sank lower, casting the shadows of the pines across 
them, and emboldened by the silence, the furze chats 
twittered here and there, while from the distance came the 
soft mellow caw of a rook in homeward flight. Then from 
the dry grass hard by came the shi ill crisp chizz of the 
grasshopper, and soft and deep from the clump of firs the 


344 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


low rattling whir of the evejar preparing for its hawking 
flight round the trees in quest of the moths and beetles 
that formed its fare. 

But one thing in the soft evening beauty seemed to ac- 
cord with the passions and hellish fury of the two men, 
and that was the low hiss and writhing shape of a short 
thick viper which glided slowly from beneath one tuft of 
heath where it had been driven by the coming footsteps, 
to seek its lurking-place beneath another. 

For fully twenty minutes, panting, heated, exhausted, 
did the two men lie there, glaring into each other’s eyes. 
Once only did the hunted move, and his hand stole softly 
towards his breast-pocket ; but it was pinioned on the 
instant, and he lay prone, waiting his time. 

Meanwhile the sobbing hoarse murmur of their breath- 
ing grew more subdued, the heavy beating of their hearts 
more even, and the great drops of sweat ceased to trickle 
down from neck and temple, to coalesce, and then drop 
upon the grass. The feeling of helplessness, of paralyzed 
muscles, passed away, and with the fire in his eye growing 
fiercer as he felt his strength returning, John Huish uttered 
a sigh of content as he told himself that he could now 
crush out the life of the creature who had destroyed his 
happy life. 

The sun sank lower as he gazed down at the face be- 
neath him. It was like looking at his own angry counten- 
ance in a mirror, and for the moment he was startled ; but 
that passed away, for the thought of Gertrude came like a 
flash through his insane brain. 

It was for vengeance. 

“ Devil ! ” he cried hoarsely ; and with one' sharp move- 
ment he struck at the prostrate man. 

The latter had seen the change in his countenance, and 
was prepared for the assault. With the activity of a 
panther he seized the coming hand, and throwing up his 
chest as he bent his spine like a bow, he tried to throw 
his adversary off, and then a deadly struggle began. 

At this moment there was little difference in the physical 
power of the two adversaries. Huish, though, from his 
position had the advantage, one that he fought hard to 
keep. At first it seemed that he would lose it, for, 
having somewhat recovered from his horror and fear of 
death, the hunted man threw the strength he had been 


A DOUBLE KNOT \ 


345 


husbanding into his first effort, threw John Huish aside, 
and nearly escaped. His advantage, however, was but a 
matter of minutes, for Huish steadily held on, and he was 
never able to rise to his feet. The grass was crushed 
down, the purple heather broken, and the sand torn up, 
while growing giddy and weak with his exertions, the old 
fear came back, and once more the man lay prone upon 
his back, gazing up into Huish’s relentless eyes, and shud- 
dered at the remorseless countenance he saw. 

Then he raised his head slightly to try and look round 
for help, but he could see nothing but the setting sun, now 
glorifying the whole scene of peace made horrible by the 
life-and-death struggle that was going on. He thought of 
the past, of his wife, and as a strange singing arose in his 
ears, it seemed to take the form of words imploring 
for mercy — the mercy that he would not show. 

“ I can’t die — I am not fit to die ! ” he gasped. “ John 
Huish, have mercy on me ! ” 

He shuddered as his adversary burst into a wild, hoarse 
laugh, and glared down at him, and truly his face was hor- 
rible, distorted as it was by passion, his brow smeared with 
blood from the wound in his head, and every vein knotted 
and standing out from his exertions. 

“ He is mad ! ” the man muttered, as he saw the wild 
look in the other’s eyes, and once more he shrieked aloud. 
“ No, no ! do not kill me ! ” he cried ; “ I cannot die ! ” 
“ Not die ! ” cried Huish. “ We shall see ! ” 

He tightened his hands now fiercely, when, with almost 
superhuman strength, the hunted man made a dying effort 
to wrench away his neck, shrieking out : “ Huish — John 
Huish — mercy — do not kill — I am your brother ! ” 

John Huish’s hands relaxed their grasp, and a strange 
pang of fear and wonder combined struck through his 
brain. This man — his very self in appearance — his double 
— who knew his every act, his very life, and who had im- 
personated him again and again — was it possible ? 

He stared down at the distorted countenance before 
him, his hands clawed and held a few inches from the 
prostrate man’s throat, while doubt and incredulity strug- 
gled for the mastery. Then a curious smile crossed his 
face as his former thought re-mastered his beclouded 
brain. 


346 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ Another wile — a trick — a lie, for a few more moments’ 
breath ! ” he cried, catching him by the throat once more. 
“ It is a lie, and you are a devil ! ” 

“ Mercy, help !” shrieked the other once more. “ Huish 
— John — would you kill your brother? ” 

“ I have no brother.” 

“ I am the son of James Huish and Mary Riversley ! ” 
cried the other with starting eyes ; and then, as the young 
man loosed him once more, he cried : “It is true, I call 
God to witness — it is true ! ” 

John Huish clasped his forehead with his hands, and 
tried to comprehend the fact thus suddenly brought before 
his clouded brain. 

“ You — my brother ? ” 

“Ask in the other world !” yelled the other, as, with a 
stroke like lightning, he truck Huish full in the shoulder 
with a long keen-bladed knife, and, with a low groan, the 
young man fell over sidewise, and lay motionless amongst 
the heath. 

“Curse him !” hissed the man savagely, as he rose to 
his feet, and then sank down feeling faint and giddy. “ I’m 
sick as a dog. I’m torn to pieces. Curse him, it was 
time to strike ! ” 

He wiped the blood from his hands, sought for and 
picked up the revolver that had fallen before the struggle 
began, and came back to think. 

“ Not room for two John Huishes,” he said with a coarse 
laugh. 

“ Shall I go on with the game ? ” he said at last. “ Yes ? 
No ? Too late. I shall be hunted down for this. The 
people must know of the jump from the train. He will be 
found here to-morrow. I must get back.” 

He bent over the prostrate man for a few moments, 
gazing at his calm placid face, which now in the twilight 
seemed sleeping. 

“ Poor devil !” he muttered ; “ I didn’t want your life, 
but if, as you said, there was only room for one of us, why, 
you had to go ! Brother, eh ? Good-bye, dear brother 
Abel ; I’m going to play Cain with a vengeance now ; but 
my mark is on my arm, and not on my brow. Curse it, 
how it throbs and burns ! ” 

With a low inspiration of the breath he hurriedly threw 
off his coat, and drew up his shirt-sleeve, for half was torn 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


347 


away in the struggle, and laying bare a great puckered scar 
upon his arm, it showed red and fiery, probably, though, 
from injury in the struggle. 

“ It is nothing, I suppose. One would think he had had 
the bite, and not I. Rabid as a maddened dog ! ” 

He hastily drew on his coat, shivering with cold and 
horror. 

“ That would be horrible,” he muttered, “ to go mad 
like a dog ! What a fool I am ! I shall stay here till I am 
taken.” 

He glanced sharply round, and then started off at a 
steady walk, thankful for the coming shades of night, which 
would hide his disordered apparel. 

His figure had hardly grown faint in the distance when 
a couple of young men crossing the common with rod and 
basket on their shoulders came upon the prostrate form of 
John Huish, as they chatted carelessly of the day’s sport. 

il Drunk, or a tramp?” said one. 

“ Both,” said the other carelessly, as he glanced at the 
figure. “ By Jove ! Harry, there’s blood. It’s suicide ! ” 

They hurried to the spot, and there was still light 
enough to display the tokens of the fierce struggle in the 
trampled turf, and the torn neck of the injured man’s shirt. 

“ It’s murder ! ” cried the first speaker. “ Run for 
help ! ” 

“ Here it is ! ” said the other excitedly, as several figures 
were seen approaching ; and he uttered a loud shout. 

“ What is it ? Have you found them ? ” cried the first 
of the fresh party, panting. 

“ Found this man — he’s dead.” 

“ We’ve been hunting them for long enough,” said the 
other. “ Yes, that’s one; here's his coat and waistcoat. 
Good God ! is he dead ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said the man, leaning over Huish’s body. 
“ He’s got an ugly wound. I wonder who he is ? ” 

“ I know,” said the man who had come up. “ We have 
found his pocket-book and a letter. His name’s Huish — 
John Huish — and the letter’s from a doctor — Stonor, I 
think the name is.” 

“ Never mind the name as long as it is a doctor ! ” cried 
the man who knelt by Huish. “Someone run for him. 
Here, who’s got a flask? ” 


348 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

NOT ROOM FOR TWO. 

The hunted man’s wife sat watching at her window hour 
after hour, as she had watched days and nights before — bit- 
ter, vindictive, dwelling on the cruelty, the blows and 
wrongs, from which she had suffered at this man’s hands, 
and from the woman who played the part of mother to him 
— -jealous tyrant to her. 

“ I have forgiven so much,” she said, “ and would forgive 
again — anything but this ! So young, and handsome, and 
fair ! He’ll find her again, and bring her back, and then I 
may go. Why didn’t he kill me outright?” she added 
bitterly, as she went slowly to the lamp, took it up, and 
held it so that she could gaze at her bruised face in the 
glass. 

It was a handsome face, but bitterly vindictive now, as 
she gazed at the bruises and an ugly cut upon her lip. 

“ Better have killed me for letting her go. He hates me 
now. Yes,” she said sadly ; “ better do it at once — better 
do it.” 

But she crossed the room again with a sigh to open the 
door and listen, habit mastering anger and bitterness, as a 
look of eagerness and longing such as had often been there 
before came into her face. It was the old anxious look 
with which she had watched for him who did not come. 
Then, by degrees, the look faded out, and her brow con- 
tracted as bitter thoughts prevailed. 

It was getting late now, and she lit the candles in an au- 
tomatic fashion, pausing at intervals to think. Then, go- 
ing to the little sideboard, she took out a glass and the 
spirit decanter, half full of brandy, placing both on the 
sideboard ready before seating herself at the open window 
to listen. Nine o’clock struck, then ten, and the half-hour 
had chimed, but still he did not return. 

There were a couple of figures, one at either end of the 
lane, but they did not attract her attention, and she still 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


349 


sat listening till a faint noise below made her start up and 
hurry to the door. 

Yes, at last. Someone coming up the stairs two steps at 
a time. The door was flung open, and her husband entered 
hastily, looking pale and disordered. There was so jaded 
and despairing an aspect in the man’s eyes that the woman’s 
sympathies were aroused, her troubles were for the moment 
forgotten, and she laid her hand upon his arm. 

“ Back at last, John dear ! ” she said tenderly. “ Are 
you tired? ” And then something in his face startled her. 
“John dear ! ” she cried. 

“ Curse John ! ” he cried. li There I have done with 
that masquerading. Here, quick — my little bag — a change 
of things ! ” 

“ Are you hurt ? ” she cried anxiously. 

“ Do you hear me ? ” he cried, and struck at her savagely 
with the back of his hand. 

She staggered back with a low moan, but sprang to him 
the next moment, and threw her arms round his neck. 

“John dearest,” she whispered, in a low, frantic tone, 
“ for God’s sake tell me you are sorry you did that. For 
your own sake ask me to forgive you ; it makes me 
mad ! ” 

“ Curse you, keep away ! ” he cried, flinging her off ; but 
she staggered back, and tried to nestle in his breast, only 
to be flung off again. “ Get me my clean things — quick ! ” 

“ No, no, not yet ! ” she cried, falling upon her knees 
and grasping at his hands. “John, dear John, one kind 
word ; say one gentle word to me, pray, oh, pray ! ” 

“ Are you mad ? ” he said savagely, as he tried to release 
his hand. 

“ No ; but you are driving me so ! ” she cried hoarsely. 
“ I forgive you your infidelity, your unkindness — every- 
thing — the way in which you have wronged me. John 
■ — husband — for God’s sake, for your own sake, be kind to 
me now. You do not know the temptation that is on me.” 

“ To run away and leave me ? ” he said mockingly. 
“ Pray go.” He stood glaring down at her for a moment, 
and then exclaimed, in a cold, cutting way : “ Will you 

get me the things I want ? ” 

“ Yes, yes, dear — yes, my own love ! ” she cried excit- 
edly ; “ in one minute. But John, husband, my heart is 
nearly broken. I am maddened by my wrongs.” 


350 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


He must have been mad himself, for as she clung to him 
he struck her again, more savagely this time, and, with a 
shudder running through her whole frame, she cowered on 
the floor. 

But it was only for the moment. She struggled up again, 
joining her hands together as she wailed once more : 

“ I ask you again, for our dead babe’s sake, John — hus- 
band — give me one kind word, and I will forgive all ! ” 

“ Do you want to drive me wild with your folly ! ” he 
yelled savagely. “ I am not John Huish — I am not your 
husband. Out of my sight, or ” 

He raised his hand again to strike her, but she did not 
flinch. She stood up, seeming as if turned to stone, and a 
sickly pallor appeared on her cheeks. 

“ There, quick \ get me the brandy. I have a long way to 
go-” 

“ Yes,” she said quietly, as a low moan escaped her 
lips ; “ you have a long way to go.” 

She fetched the brandy decanter and glassfrom the side- 
board, placed them before him, and he poured out a goodly 
quantity, raised the glass, listened, and then put it down. 

“ Who’s below ? ” he said sharply, as he turned towards 
the door. 

“ Jane Glyne,” she said, moaning ; and then once more 
she tried to clasp his neck. 

“ What’s the matter with you ? ” he cried mockingly, as 
he thrust her arm away, and, catching up the glass, he 
raised it to his lips. 

“ No, no ! ” she cried, her coldness giving way to a look 
of horror ; “ don’t drink it ; ” and she threw up her hands 
to seize the glass. But once more his hand fell heavily 
upon her, and she shrank away, covering her bruised face 
with her fingers, as he drained the glass and then dropped 
it, to shiver to atoms on the fender. 

“ What ! That brandy ? ” he cried, with his face con- 
vulsed. “ What have you given me to drink ? ” 

“ Death ! ” she said sternly, as she dropped her hands, 
to stare him full in the face. 

He caught at the mantelpiece and steadied himself, his 
lips parting, but no words came. Then, with his counte- 
nance changing horribly, he said in a hoarse whisper : 

“ How long ? ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


351 


She grasped his meaning, and shook her head. He 
smiled, and swung himself to the table, caught the decanter 
in his hand, and stood pointing. 

“ A glass — quick ! ” 

She glided to the sideboard, and returned to place one 
before him. The neck of the decanter chattered loudly 
against the thin edge, and his teeth gnashed horribly as he 
poured out half the glass full, and then dropped the vessel, 
for the remainder to run gurgling out with a strange noise, 
as if the spirit within the decanter were dying. Then, 
grasping the glass, he raised it and held it out. 

“ Drink ! ” he said huskily — “ drink ! ” 

The woman stood motionless for a few moments, rigid, 
as if petrified. Then, without a word, she raised her hand, 
took the glass calmly, and raised it to her lips, when in a 
paroxysm of agony the dying man threw out his arms, the 
glass was dashed from her hand, and he fell heavily upon 
the floor. As he fell writhing upon the rug the door was 
thrust open, and a detective-sergeant and a couple of 
policeman entered the room. 

“ John Huish, alias Mark Riversley, I have a warrant 

Good heavens!” The sergeant stopped, caught the 
decanter from the table, smelt it, and set it down. “ Too 
late ! ” he exclaimed, as a strong odor of bitter almonds 
floated through the room. “ Here — a doctor — quick ! ” 

As one constable reached the door the man they sought 
uttered a low animal cry, writhed himself partly up, and 
caught at the woman’s hands as she sank upon her knees 
at his side. 

“ Too — late,” said the man faintly, as he threw up his 
head and seemed to be speaking to someone invisible to 
those present. “ Your — fault, your sin — a curse — a 
curse ! ” 

Those present glanced at one another and then at the 
woman who knelt there silent and motionless, as if carved 
in stone. 

They thought him dead, but he struggled faintly, and 
the woman held his head upon her arm, as his eyes slowly 
turned upon her, and a smile played round his pinched 
blue lips. 

She shuddered, and her brow knit as she bent her head 
to hear his dying curse. 

“ Only a dog, and a dog’s death,” he whispered — 11 a wolf 
— in my blood — cursed — cursed. Gentlemen, too late ; 


35 2 


A DOUBLE KNOT, \ 


poison ; I took it myself. An accident — I — Ah ! No room 
for us both. Good bye ! — my ” 

He made a faint effort to throw one arm round the 
woman’s neck, but it fell lifeless by his side, and as a 
shudder ran through him a piteous cry rang through the 
room, and all turned to see that a wild-looking, haggard 
woman had entered the room. 

“ My poor, handsome boy ! ” she wailed. “ Dead, 
dead ! ” 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THE FAMILY DOCTOR. 

Being a matter-of-fact man, Dr. Stonor had communicated 
with the police, and many hours had not elapsed Before 
he learned from them that a gentleman, such as he de- 
scribed, with a letter bearing his name, had been found, 
seriously injured, on one of the Surrey commons in the 
neighborhood of Ripley. 

On running down, he found John Huish lying at a cot- 
tage, bandaged up, and very weak, but quite sensible, and 
ready to smile in welcome of his old friend. 

“ Why, my dear boy, how could you be so foolish as 
to leave me like this ? ” exclaimed the doctor, who had 
heard of the condition in which his patient had been found. 
“ You might have known that all I did was for your good.” 

“ Yes, doctor, yes,” he whispered ; and his visitor 
noticed how calm and sane were his looks and words ; 
“ but I could bear it no longer. I had that dreadful idea 
in my head that I was going mad.” 

“ And you know now that it was only a fancy? ” 

“Ido,” said Huish. “Can you find my wife? Use 
every plan you can to rescue her fron ” 

“ You had better not talk, my boy,” said the doctor lay- 
ing his cool hand upon the patient’s head, to find it, how- 
ever, as cool. “ She is quite safe — at her uncle’s.” 

“ Is — is this true ? ” said Huish eagerly. “ You are not 
deceiving me ? ” 

“My dear boy, I would not deceive you; but now be 
calm and quiet, or I will not answer for the conse- 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


353 


quences. You see I do not even ask you about your en- 
counter with the man that did this, although I am full of 
curiosity ; for I have heard a strangely confused account.” 

“ Tell me one thing, doctor, and then I will ask no 
more,” said Huish faintly. “ You knew my father before 
I was born. Had I ever a brother ? ” 

The doctor’s brow knit, and then he nodded. » 

“Yes, I believe so; but it is a sad story. Don’t ask' 
any more. He died in infancy ; at birth, I believe.” 

“ No,” said Huish calmly ; “ he lived.” 

Dr. Stonor sat watching the injured man to see him sink 
into a calm, easy slumber, and on repeating his visit next 
day found him very weak, but refreshed and perfectly calm, 
and ready to converse upon the subject of his brother, 
when, feeling bound, under the circumstances, he told the 
wounded man what he knew of the past — of the encounter 
between Robert Millet and the elder Huish, and the lat- 
ter’s marriage to Mary Riversley, while Captain Millet, who 
was terribly injured by his fall, had taken to his peculiar 
life, and held to it ever since. 

“ But I was always given to understand that this child 
died,” said the doctor, musing. “Your father and mother 
always believed it dead. It’s a strange story, my dear boy, 
and it seems impossible that there could be such a resem- 
blance.” 

“ Seems impossible, doctor, perhaps,” said Huish, smil- 
ing ; “ but I have looked him in the face. Thank God,” 
he said fervently ; “ the knowledge of his existence sweeps 
away the strange horror that has troubled me and accounts 
for all the past. Doctor, it must have been he who applied 
to you that day while I was abroad.” 

Dr. Stonor’s answer was to lay his hand upon his pa- 
tient’s forehead again, and John Huish smiled. 

“ My dear boy, it is absurd,” he exclaimed pettishly. “ I 
could not have made such a mistake. There ; I must get 
back to down.” 

“ Come and see me to-morrow,” said Huish earnestly, 
“ and bring me back some news of ” 

The doctor nodded and left ; and by that time next day 
he had come to the conclusion that there were strange 
lives in this world, for he had had such information as took 
him to an old house in a City lane, where he had gazed 
upon the face of the dead semblance of the man he knew 

23 


354 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


to be lying ill in the Surrey cottage. Moreover, he had 
found with the dead a thin, harsh-spoken woman, red-eyed 
and passionate with weeping, and ready on the slightest 
encouragement to burst into a torrent of grief and adulation 
of “ her boy,” as she called him. 

“ So handsome and so brave as he was, and such a gent 
as he could make himself, and live with swells,” she sobbed 
“ though he wouldn’t know me sometimes in the street.” 

“ Did you know his father and mother ? ” said the doc- 
tor, hazarding a shot. 

“ I am his mother,” said the woman sharply. “ Poor 
brave, handsome boy ! The times I’ve found him in mo 1 "?) 
and warned him about danger, and watched for him n lun 
he wanted it done. I am his mother.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said the doctor. “ You don’t know u e. 

I attended Captain Millet after his fall in the gravelpit n ai 
the Dingle.” 

“ He was the gent that come to see Miss Mary two years 
before, wasn’t he ? ” 

“ To be sure,” said the doctor. “ You see, I am an old 
friend. Stop a moment,” said the doctor, referring to 
some notes he had made that morning in Wimpole Street. 
“ Why, let me see, you must be Jane Glyne.” 

“ Which I ain’t ashamed to own it,” said the woman, 
pushing back her thin gray hair. 

“ Of course not,” said the doctor. “ You were Mrs. 
Riversley’s servant. You heard, of course, of the struggle 
between the two young men ? ” 

“ I heard of it after,” said the woman sharply ; “ and 
what’s more, I heard one of them shriek out at the time. 
It was when I was going away to where I had left the 
child.” 

“ To be sure,” said the doctor quietly ; “ but Miss Ri- 
versley thought it was dead.” 

“Yes,” said the woman, “that was missus’ doings. 
She said no one must know it was alive. That’s why I 
took pity on the poor little thing, and brought him up.” 

“ That, and the allowance,” said the doctor significant- 
ly* 

“Well, thirty pounds a year wasn’t such a deal,” said 
the woman ; “ but I somehow got fond of him, because he 
grew so clever. My ! how he used to hate everybody of 
the name after he got to know who he was. I’ve known 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


355 


him to curse everybody who belonged to him, saying the 
bite of the dog I saved him from had given him a dog’s 
nature. It was his going down to the Dingle when he was 
fifteen and threatening an exposure that gave Mrs. Rivers- 
ley the illness she died of ; but I’d made her settle my 
money on me,” chuckled the hag ; “and it’s safe enough 
as long as I live. He’ll never want now what I saved for 
him, poor dear ! nor me neither. — My poor boy — dead ! ” 

The doctor drove back to Wimpole Street, where he had 
a long talk at the panel with Robert Millet, and the result 
was that they were both satisfied as to the identity of the 
elder natural brother of John Huish, whose aim through 
life seemed to have been to take advantage of his extraor- 
dinary resemblance, and to improve it by copying Huish’s 
dress, carriage, very habits in fact, and using them to the 
injury of the younger brother, whom he bitterly hated for 
occupying the position that should have been his by right. 

Miles away in the pleasant Surrey lane John Huish lay 
in happy ignorance of the fate of the man who had been 
his bitterest foe. He was very weak ; but an awful load 
had been taken from his brain — the dread of insanity — and 
beside his bed knelt Gertrude, holding his hand with both 
of hers, and humbly asking his forgiveness for the doubts 
she had had. 

“ My darling ! ” he whispered, as he laid his other hand 
upon her soft, fair, hair, “ I am so happy, and life seems 
so bright before me that I cannot bear for you to lay one 
cloud upon its sunshine. Why, Gertrude, you might easily 
be deceived, when his presence, and the knowledge of such 
an existence, nearly drove me mad. There, little one, try 
and nurse me back to strength, for I have the hope now 

that nothing can take away. But if I die ” he said 

sadly, as he gazed out of the window. 

“John — husband ! ” 

“ Yes, sweet,” he sighed, “ if I die, remember I have 
been yours, and yours alone. Let no other hand touch 
me after death.” 

“ Husband ! ” cried Gertrude, in an agonized voice. 
" But no ; you shall not die, John, darling, live for my sake 
— for the sake of our little child.” 


35 & 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

THE EVENTS OF TWO YEARS. 

Two years slipped rapidly away, and society rolled on as 
usual. Many events had taken place, some of which had 
had their special interest to the characters in this story. 

Ruth was thinner than of old, but she looked bright and 
happy, for the past two years had been very peaceful. She 
had paid occasional visits to Hampton Court, but Lord 
Henry’s house seemed to be definitely her home, and the 
old man always treated her as if she were his child. 

In the course of time various matrimonial speculations 
were set on foot at Hampton Court to provide Ruth with 
a rich husband ; but as in each case the proposition of her 
joining a dinner-party where either a wealthy plebeian or 
an elderly titled roue was to be the honored guest, was 
crushed emphatically by Lady Henry Moorpark, who was 
firm in the extreme, the ladies by degrees gave Ruth’s over 
as a hopeless case, leaving her to the tender mercies of her 
cousin. 

In fact, as she was off the honorable sisters’ hands, and 
their expenses were lessened, Ruth’s name was not often 
mentioned except during Mr. Paul Montaigne’s periodical 
calls, when, after walking across from Teddington, that 
gentleman would sip their tea and sigh, as he blandly 
alluded to the ingratitude of the world, and the fact that 
the servants nt Lord Henry’s had been instructed to say 
“ not at home ” whenever he called. 

Often and often bland Mr. Paul Montaigne would gnash 
his teeth when alone, and vow vengeance, but somehow 
Marcus Glen’s threat had had so great an influence upon 
him that the thought thereof would make him pale and ner- 
vous for twenty-four hours after, and quite spoil his night’s 
repose. But he heard merely with a grim smile that 
Captain Glen had become a constant visitor at Lord Henry 
Moorpark’s, and that his lordship gave Ruth Allerton away 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


357 


upon a certain happy day, for it is a world of change, and 
the time had come when Ruth’s cousin could think quite 
calmly of the past. 

The calm was not without its disturbance, though, for S4 
Lord Henry sat one evening sipping his port and wonder- 
ing whether he might not now go up and join the ladies, he 
heard a carriage stop at the door ; there was a thunderous 
knock, a terrific peal at the bell, and directly after the old 
butler entered. 

“ Mr. Elbraham, my lord. I have shown him into the 
library.” 

“ Hang Mr. Elbraham ! ” said his lordship to himself ; 
but feeling that the visit must be one of importance, seeing 
how little intercourse they had, he followed the butler into 
the library, where the financier was walking hastily up and 
down. “ Ah, Elbraham !” he said, “come into the dining- 
room. I was having my port.” 

“Port, eh? Ah, yes! my throat’s like a limekiln;” 
and, following Lord Henry into the dining-room, the butler 
placed fresh glasses, and the financier gulped down a cou- 
ple as quickly as he could. 

“ Why, it’s an age since we met,” said Lord Henry. 

“ Good job for you,” said Elbraham, mopping his red 
face and bald head. “Clo’s a regular devil. Is she 
here ? ” 

“ Here ! ” said Lord Henry. “ Oh no ! she has not been 
here for a long time.” 

i( Then she has bolted ! ” 

“ Has what ? ” cried Lord Henry. 

“ Bolted, Moorpark — bolted, d n her! Left a note 

for me saying she was going to dine with her sister, and I 
took the bait, till, thinking it a good opportunity to go and 
look over her jewels, hang me if they weren’t all gone ! ” 

“ Her jewels gone ? ” 

“ Yes ; and that made me suspicious. I went down 
directly and was going to ring, when I ran up against our 
buttons.” 

“ Ran up against your buttons ? ” said Lord Henry 
wonderingly. 

“ Yes : the page-boy — with the large traveling-case in 
his hand. ‘ Hullo, you sir,’ says I, ‘ what have you got 
there ? * 


35 » 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


“ ‘ A case missus said I was to take to Cannon Street 
Station, sir, and meet her there ; and I’ve been waiting 
about for ever so long and couldn’t see her, sir, so I 
thought I’d better bring it back !’ 

“ ‘ Quite right, my boy,’ I says. 4 Give it to me. 
There, be off down ! ' 

“ Well, sir, as soon as I was alone, I ripped up the bag, 
for it was locked ; and hang me if it hadn’t got in all her 
jewels — every blessed thing : diamonds and sapphires and 
rubies and emeralds and pearls ; thousands and thousands 
of pounds’ worth, for she would go it in jewels ; and when 
I offended her I used to have to make it up by giving her 
something new. That woman cost me a pot of money, 
Moorpark, ’pon my soul she did, for I never shilly-shallied. 
If she was upset I always bought her something new.” 

“ But, really, I don’t understand all this ! ” said Lord 
Henry feebly. 

“ Wait a bit. She had meant to take her jewels with 
her, and the idiot of a boy blundered the thing, somehow, 
and instead of her having them I have the whole blessed 
lot. For I pitched the cases in the iron safe where I keep 
my papers, locked ’em up, came on here to see after her, 
and there’s the keys ! ” 

He slapped his pocket, and looked at Lord Henry as he 
spoke. 

“ I never expected it,” said Elbraham coolly ; “ it was 
her dodge.” 

“ Then where do you expect she is ? ” 

“ Why, bolted, man ; gone to the devil — or with the devil, 
that black-looking rascal Malpas ; and a deuced good job 
too ! ” 

“ But this is very dreadful ! ” said Lord Henry. 

“ It would have been if she had got away with all those 
stones,” said Elbraham, helping himself tb more wine. 
“ But she was done there. By Jingo ! what a cat-and-dog 
life we have led ! ” 

“ But, my dear sir ! ” cried Lord Henry, hardly able to 
conceal his disgust ; “ what steps are you going to take to 
save her?” 

“Save her? save 'her?” said Elbraham. “She don’t 
want any saving ! ” 

“ Oh yes, from such a terrible fall. It may not yet be 
too late ! ” 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


359 


“ Save her ? ” cried Elbraham, with a hoarse chuckle. 
“ Why, Moorpark, you don’t know her. Keep it dark from 
your wife, who is a good one. You drew the best lot. 
There’s no saving Clo ; she’s bad to the core, and I’m de- 
vilish glad she’s gone, for I shall get a little peace now.” 

“ But you are going to pursue her ? ” said Lord Henry. 

“ Pursue her ! What for? To have her scratch my eyes 
out, and that black scoundrel Malpas punch my head? 
No, thankye— deuced good port this ! She’s gone, and 
jolly go with her ! I wash my hands of her now.” 

“ But this is terrible, Elbraham.” 

“ Terrible ? Why, it’s bliss to me ; she’d have killed me. 
I used to be a bit jealous at first; but I had to get over 
that, for she was always flirting with someone.” 

“ But you must fetch her back, Elbraham,” exclaimed 
Lord Henry excitedly. “ Think of the family credit ! ” 

“ Family credit ! ” cried Elbraham. “ Why, they hadn’t 
got none, — poor as job, and nobody would trust them.” 

“ The family honor, then, sir,” said Lord Henry sternly. 

“ Family honor’s best without her. Jolly good riddance 
of bad rubbish, I say ! She’s gone, and she won’t come 
back ; and as for hunting for her, why, it would be dis- 
gracing your wife to do so.” 

“ But really ” began Lord Henry. 

i£ Bah ! Moorpark, you leave that to me ; I’m a business 
man, and know what’s what. But, I say, it’s a lark, isn’t 
it?” 

“ I don’t understand you,” said Lord Henry, who could 
not conceal his disgust for the contemptible little wretch 
before him. 

“ Why, about those jewels. My ! how fine and mad 
she’ll be ! It’s about the best thing I ever knew. She won’t 
get ’em now.”# 

Elbraham laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and 
then he wiped his eyes. 

“ I say, Moorpark, I ought to be devilishly cut up, you 
know, about this ; but the fact is, I’m devilish glad. I 
shall look nasty and make a show about being all wrong, 
you know, for one’s credit’s sake ; but it ain’t my fault. I 
couldn’t help it ; she had it all her own way. And the 
money she has spent — my I ” 

Elbraham helped himself to some more port, while Lord 
Henry sat and tapped the table with his carefully cared-for 
nails. 


3 6 ° 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


“ I’m not going to cry over spilt milk, Moorpark, I can 
tell you ! She’s gone, and, as I said before, a devilish good 
riddance ! ” 

It was a good riddance for Lord Henry Moorpark when 
Elbraham went, which he did at last, after stubbornly 
refusing either to take or to allow any steps to be taken in 
pursuit of Clotilde. 

“ No,” he said, after his sixth glass of port, “ I won’t 
spend the price of a Parl’y ticket on her ; and I don t know 
as I shall bother myself about divorce proceedings. What’s 
the good? Mai pas hasn’t a penny in the world, so there’d 
be no costs; and as to being free, that’s what her ladyship 
would like. But, I say, Moorpark.” 

“ Yes ? ” 

“ What a sell about those jewels ! ” 

He said it again as Lord Henry saw him into his car- 
riage, and the next day he settled himself down in his sanc- 
tum with a very big cigar stuck between his lips, giving 
him the aspect of a very podgy swordfish that had burnt the 
tip of its weapon. Before him was a large leather bill-case 
gorged with slips of bluish paper, every one of which, 
as he took it carefully out, bore a stamp in one corner, a 
reference to so many months after date, and was written 
across and signed. Many of them were endorsed with 
sign-manuals as well ; and these slips of paper he quietly 
examined as he took them out of one pocket of the great 
case and then thrust them into another. 

By degrees an observer, had he been present, would have 
noticed that the pockets in which these slips were placed 
varied according to their dates, and that for the most part 
they were examined and replaced in the most unemotional 
manner ; but every now and then as Elbraham took one 
out he laid it on the table, drew violently at his cigar, emit- 
ted a tremendous cloud of smoke, and burst into a hoarse 
series of chuckles. Then he rubbed his hands and laughed 
again in an unpleasant, silent manner, twisting about in his 
pivoted library chair. 

As he span round, which, evidently being the result of 
practice, he did very cleverly, he wrinkled his face up in a 
way that with him indicated pleasure, the whole perform- 
ance giving him the aspect of some gigantic grotesque 
Japanese top. 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


361 


Then he would stop short, puff at the great cigar, and 
stare with his prominent lobster eyes at the slip of paper, 
examining the date and turning it over and over. 

“ Old cat ! ” he ejaculated ; and the slip of paper was 
laid aside, and a heavy paper-weight banged down upon it. 

There were half a dozen of these heavy paper-weights, 
and every now and then one was lifted and a fresh slip of 
paper placed beneath it. 

“ Old cat ! ” he exclaimed again. Then there was 
another chuckle. “ Let’s have another dive in the lucky 
bag ! ” he exclaimed, and a fresh slip was brought out. 

“ He did not laugh now, but glowered at the paper 
savagely. 

“ Only wait ; I’ll make him curl his black moustache to 
a pretty tune this time ! He’ll have to sell out, and what 
will he do then? I wonder what a major’s commission 
will fetch. Oh ! hang it ! they don’t sell ’em now. What 
the deuce do they do ? I don’t care ; I’ll ruin the beast, 
and then he may go to Clo to comfort him.” 

He did not spin round this time as he did when he came 
upon slips of paper bearing the signature of Lady Little- 
town, and of which he now had a tiny heap, but sat glan- 
cing at the bold, striking autograph, evidently written with 
a soft quill pen, and resembling a pair of thin Siamese twins 
with their heads together and the word “ Malpas ” after 
them, the said twins evidently doing duty for the letter A. 

“ Curse him ! I’ll ruin him, and then she’ll cut him like a 
shot. Doosid glad I got the jewels ! Bet sixpence he 
made sure of them, and now he’s got her without a fifty 
pound in her pocket.” 

Elbraham sat glaring at the bill, the big signature seem- 
ing to fascinate him, and for the moment it was so sugges- 
tive of the swarthy major that unconsciously he took up 
an ivory-handled penknife, and, holding it dagger fashion, 
began to stab the paper through and through. 

The holes reminded him that the slip of paper was valu- 
able, so he threw the penknife aside with an oath, smoothed 
the bill, and, laying it by itself, he thumped a heavy paper- 
weight upon it, and seemed in his act as if he meant to 
crush Major Malpas as flat. 

Several more acceptances followed, all representing heavy 
sums of money ; but they had no special interest for the 
financier, who went steadily on till, in succession, he found 


A DOUBLE KNOT, 


362 

half a dozen accepted by one John Huish, and over these 
he frowned and snarled. 

“ Repudiated ’em all,” he said “ swore he never ac- 

cepted one ; and his lawyer set me at defiance. But I’ll 
keep ’em. He’ll buy ’em some day to keep the affair quiet. 
Rum start that ! I could not have told t’other from which, 
if it hadn’t been for the voice.” 

He replaced these in his pocket-book, and at last came 
upon five accepted by Arthur Litton, the effect being to 
make Elbraham roar with laughter. 

“ Puppy ! ” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down bang 
upon the slips of paper, “ puppy ! Fine gentleman. 
Haughty aristocrat. My dear Arthur, what a fix you are 
in, and how this will diminish dear Anna Maria’s money ! 

“ Here’s another, and there are more to come ! ” he cried, 
roaring with laughter ; and then he had a spin till he felt 
giddy, after which he spun back in the other direction to 
counteract the dizziness, chuckled, rubbed his hands, found 
his cigar was out, and paused to light it before going 
through a less heavy batch of bills, the result being that 
he had beneath these paper-weights a goodly show of the 
acceptances of Lady Littletown, Major Malpas, and Arthur 
Litton, over which he sat and gloated, smoking the while. 

“ What a beautiful thing a bill is ! ” exclaimed Elbraham 
at last. “It’s a blessing to an honest man : helps him out 
of his difficulties ; gives such a nice discount to the holder ; 
and shows him how to punish wicked people like these.” 

He had another chuckle and a spin here, his feelings 
carrying him away to such an extent that he rather over- 
spun himself, and felt so giddy that he had to refresh him- 
self from a silver flask that he kept in a drawer. 

“ How I shall come down upon ’em ! ” he said at last, 
as he puffed away reflectively at his cigar, which now grew 
rather short. “ A thousand of bricks is nothing to it. 
My dear Lady Littletown will go down upon her knees to 
me, and ask me to dinner. Ha ! ha ! ha ! she’ll want to 
find me another wife, perhaps, curse her ! What a bad lot 
they are ! I only wish I’d a few bills of the old cats at 
the private apartments — our dear aunts.” 

He seemed to reflect here. 

“ I don’t think Marie’s a bad sort, after all,” he said at 
last. “ Old Moorpark had a deal the best of the bargain. 
I haven’t anything to say against them : they cut Clo long 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 363 

enough ago, and quite right too. She’s a devil ! What 
that gal has cost me ! ” 

There was another fit of reflection here, during which 
Mr. Elbraham threw the end of his cigar into the waste- 
paper basket, and lit another, longer and stouter than the 
last, after taking a band of white and gold paper from 
around its middle. 

“ Then there’s Master Arthur Litton,” he said. Pitched 
me over as soon as he’d married his rich wife. Called me 
an Israelitish humbug. Forgot all about his paper, and 
how I had helped him. Regularly cut me dead. Nice bit 
of money he had with Lady Anna Maria Morton, but he 
has made it fly, and all he could finger has gone. I’ll have 
him on his knees. He’ll talk about Shylock then, eh ? I’ll 
have something better than a pound of flesh.” 

He chuckled and smoked for some minutes, and then 
the smoke began to come in longer puffs, the lines marked 
by his triumph and mirth disappeared, and he glared and, 
rolled his unpleasantly prominent eyes. 

“ Curse him ! ” he cried at length hoarsely. “ He hasn’t 
a clear hundred to bless himself with, and I hold his paper; 
for thousands. I believe it was with my money he carried 
off Clo. Well, let him have her. I’ve had enough of the 
wicked devil. Let him have her. Ha ! ha ! ha ! My 
grand Major Malpas in the sheriff’s hands, and Clo in 
lodgings without a penny ! I needn’t want to trouble my- 
self any more.” 

The picture he mentally drew was so satisfactory that he 
indulged in another hoarse hollow laugh that was ugly 
upon the ear. 

Then he carefully gathered together the three little 
batches of bills and secured each lot with an elastic band, 
before placing them in the pocket-book he carried in his 
breast, buttoned them up tightly, as if they were the greatest 
treasures he possessed, and ended by locking up the bulky 
case. 

“ Ha ! ” he said, rising, “ I’m sorry for poor Major Mal- 
pas. I wonder whether that chap Glen will get the step 
up. What a lovely invention a piece of paper is ! ” 


3^4 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

LAST WORDS. 

The result of Elbraham’s consideration of the acceptances 
can be briefly told. There were sale bills out before long at 
Lady Littletown’s bijou residence at Hampton, and also 
at Lady Anna Maria Morton's house in Bryanston Square. 

The former lady had been in her carriage, and called 
upon Elbraham at his City office, and he laughed and 
asked her to take wine and biscuits, which she did, feeling 
sure that she could persuade him to make some arrange- 
ment to give her time ; but as soon as this was demanded, 
Elbraham, who had a tight hold upon her ladyship’s prop- 
erty, politely told her, but in coarser language, that he 
would see her condemned first. 

Mr. Arthur Litton also, seeing that he had been going 
too fast, called upon the financier, who seemed delighted 
to see him, and offered him a very choice cigar ; but as to 
leniency, Elbraham was as immovable as the Rock of 
Gibraltar, so Mr. Arthur Litton left, saying strange things, 
and went and placed his affairs in a solicitor’s hands. 

Major Malpas fared worst, for if ever man was socially 
ruined it was he. Elbraham seemed to spare no pains to 
weave a strong network round him, in which he buzzed 
till he got free, but only to skulk about the Continent, 
save when he paid a stolen visit to his native shore. 

In company with Clotilde ? 

By no means, for their intimacy soon came to an end, 
and news reached the private apartments at Hampton 
Court that the dove which had left that dovecote had fur- 
ther besmirched her beautiful plumage. The honorable 
ladies, however, spoke of her in the future as dead, and 
by degrees became quite reconciled to Ruth’s marriage to 
Captain Glen, principally through the constant dropping of 
the water that is said to wear a stone. 

The water dropped from the Honorable Isabella’s eyes, 
and the stone was her sister, who invited the happy pair 


A DOUBLE KNOT. 


36s 

down to Hampton Court to spend a few days at the palace, 
where the Honorable Isabella’s heart would flutter and 
her hands shake, but all in a very innocent way, for her 
love for Marcus Glen had become subdued to one of a 
very motherly kind, even as another love was dead and 
buried in the past. 

There was a change at the house in Wimpole Street. 
First one window used to have the shutters unclosed, then 
another and another ; and at last it was noticed that the 
windows were cleaned. By the time John Huish had 
quite recovered from his injury, the place, though still 
suffering greatly from the want of paint, was so altered 
that when the cab which had brought the convalescent 
and his young wife from the Waterloo Station stopped, 
Huish had stared and told the driver to go on. 

“ This here’s the number, sir,” said the man sturdily ; 
and so it proved, for just then Vidler opened the door, and 
they entered a house they hardly seemed to know. 

There were voices, too, as well as an abundance of light 
in the house ; and when the young couple, whose coming 
was expected, entered the drawing-room, it was to find 
quite a party assembled. 

John Huish stopped short to gaze in wonderment, as 
Gertrude left his side, and ran forward to embrace a little 
thin old man, so gray and blanched that he looked almost 
ghostly as his white hands trembled over Gertrude and 
then were placed upon her head as she laid it against his 
breast. 

The young man’s eyes turned sharply then to the panel 
in the wall, to see that it was closed and painted over. 

“ I’m very glad to see you, John Huish,” said a familiar 
voice, though, the next moment, as Gertrude rose to em- 
brace her father, and the little white, bent old man stood up 
to limp painfully two or three steps to grasp both his hands. 

John Huish could not speak, knowing what he did ; and 
pale and flushed by'turns, he stood grasping the old man’s 
hands and thinking of how his father had robbed him of 
his love, and almost of his life. 

“ My dear John,” he said, “ you have taken my darling, 
and, as I have looked upon her always as my child, why, 
you must be my son. God bless you 1 The past is dead.” 


THE END. 












BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT WITH THE AUTHORS. 



LOVELLS 

International Series 

OF 

MODERN NOVELS. 


THE NEW WORKS PUDLICHCD IN THIS EXCELLENT 
SERIES, SEMI-WEEKLY, ARE ALWAYS THE FIRST 
ISSUED IN THIS COUNTRY. 

EVERY ISSUE IS PRINTED FROM NEW, CLEAR 
ELECTROTYPE PLATES, PRINTED ON FINE PAPER 
AND BOUND IN ATTRACTIVE PAPER COVERS OF 
ORIGINAL DESIGN. 


RECENT ISSUES 


lit. Margaret Btng. By F. C. Philips 50 

115. For One and the Would. By M. Betbam-Edwards £0 

116. Princess Sunshine. By Mr. J. H. Riddell 50 

117. Si.oane Square Scandal. By Annie Thomas 50 

118. The Night op the 3rd Ult. By H. F. Wood 50 

119. Quite Another Story. By Jean Ingelow 50 

120. Heart op Gold. By L T. Meade 50 

121. The Word and the Will. By James Payn 50 

122. Dumps. By Mrs. Louisa Parr- 50 

123. The Black Box Murder 50 

124. The Great Mill St. Mystery. By Adeline f argeant 50 

125 Between Life and Death. By Frank Barrett 50 

126. Name and Fame. By Adeline Sargeant and Ewing Lester 50 

127. Dramas op Life. By George R. Sims 50 

128. Lover or Friend? By Rosa Nouchette Carey 50 

129. Famous or Infamous. By Bertha Thomas 50 

130 The House op Halliwell. By Mrs. Henry Wood 50 

131. Ruffino. By Ouida 50 

132. Alas ! By Rhoda Broughton 50 

133. Basil and Annette. Bv B. L. Farjeou 50 

134. The Demoniac. By Walter Besant 50 

135. Brave Heart and True. By Florence Main at 50 

136. Lady Maude’s Mania. By George Manville Fenn 50 

137. Marcia. By W E. Norris 50 

138. Wormwood. By Marie Corelli 50 

139. The Honorable Miss. By L. T. Meade 50 

14). A Bitter Birthright. By Dora Russell 50 

141. A Double Knot. By George Manville Fenn 60 

1 42. A Hidden Foe By G. A. Henty 50 

1 43- Urith. By S. Baring-Gould 50 

144. Grayspoint. By Mrs. J. II, Riddell. 60 


Any of the above sent postpaid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY. 

SUCCESSORS TO 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

142 TO 150 WORTH STREET. NEW YORK. 






\ 


*' 










































































I * 





























































































































































































































































































































































































































































’ >v 

»'V 


<h r 


& 


■V 


v v 


02 


<U <\ 4 0, ♦ X * 

V , * v ’ B * I , 0 


< 


<* 




<t 


® <\V </> ” 

* ** ' -, ■ • -^Bsr - 

* ^ C° *> * 

y* ^ V 

* o or 

* i 

- ^ ■%. -, 


1 v V O 

f -- _ ’S ^ 

XV ® v\V <^n. 

X* ** ^ 



* J^% 1% 

' . 6 * ^ % 

<y? . • 1 * * '<« .■* 

C° ^ / 

- tA- K = 


^ v <®>. '-.1 

> •>> * '-^tr//nVNflW^ rv V 

„* ^*/..s' <0 

C C°\s' 

4 * 


* ‘y* x 

o o> 


e-. 


* ^ : » ^ , 

' ° . v ' > 

C yrs ^><>\\uL---% ^ V 

o 0 

«* 

l * 



j^’ >y ci > 

V'w> A ° 0 

CV ^ * o 








5 o _0 - • o 

> v *5. ^ « 1 V * 

0 - * ' n 0 ^ ’ y 6 v' v 

^ V ,v - 

® *<p ,# 


N ^ «& * 




^ ✓ 


%* %. 


%, '' * T* jfi , 18 < . 

^ °o &-.y * 



«y n . V 

v ^ A 



* ^ J . 


^ <v\ X 



^ 4 

+ -?r* A> <■> 

- ^ v* 


; **° 0 ^° 


x° ©* . - # i 



V v 

* ' MSh - 



*&% . 


* * z " 

^ o x° °x . 

>* , 0 ° °- *• 



C' . •«---/ </ 

°*- " > "\f^'r^ > 


V* 8 no’^ 

^ <V - Y * 0 f 



y 5 *%>, 




C^ > 'sjw/ww v 
O x / / s S 

^ •* i> ^ 


^ v ~*'~ ■*} \y v* v> . ^ ■ . ~ . v y * 

s a v * i£f^> -i & * 

>\ ' * * S ' 0 ^° a ' 1 * 4 < <& ° * ' t 0 N C 

<* 5?j> 0° x s ^ x, f <p •■& ^ -a , <? a c> r 

t ^ ^ J^yT t "i'l, -P Jl\ a Js5AAYVw»ii j- 

'oc' •*■ v r«w 

.' „o ci, \yw*sj 



.<p 

\ v 


*’* \^ , % '* r t o ■" 

V- s s ’’/* > & 

<5- $ ,£. ,<X^ 



1 Jk 

w o> ^ 


» n , ^ 

« 1 ' V c * > 

\ » s ^ 



/ V-* 

'■ A v 

0- p, ^ <* 

^ © x° 

'L* a c . ^ 





o 

^ ^^VVvj^ > <A 

ry y ^ rvj 

^ <y ^ vJ 

I A# %'* * 

£* %. * # v ■% « 


*. \'mrs *■. -iTcfr* , '* ^ * 

V ^. / '**%' .A^’ “ ' ’ * * '*“ ‘A' « • ^ « » ' ^ 



* tr 6 ^ 



